Just a Thinking Cap
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: The Sorting Hat was given the duty to help guide Hogwarts when no longer could. However, guiding a school full of wizards seems to be much more difficult than he could have imagined, and this didn't even include the wizards' dark secret. This is Wizarding history from the Sorting Hat's perspective. Slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1: Lo, the Story Beginneth

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I am not named J.K. Rowling, and I'm not endowed with her wonderful writing ability. I also own none of these characters, for I am only Dobby's Imaginary Sock.**

**So it's been a while since I've touched this fic… seeing as I started this in eighth grade and my writing skills have (hopefully) improved, I think it's about time I gave this a rewrite. Plus, when I was sitting in lecture one day I realized this story isn't exactly a comedy. XD It has its funny moments, but not enough to be called humor. This is a somewhat AU take on the Wizarding World History as we know it. The plan is to take it through at least the last book. I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter One:**

**Lo, the Story Beginneth**

_A Really, Really, Really Long Time Ago…_

The Sorting Hat bounced haphazardly on top of Godric Gryffindor's head as they rode through some unknown dense forest.. He stared glumly around at his surroundings: trees, dirt, trees, horsehair, trees, bushes, and of course more trees. The Sorting Hat hated trees. They were so dull. Every day of this blooming week they had been riding to, well, somewhere, and he had nothing to look at besides these stationary life forms. Exactly where they were going was still a mystery. Godric probably wouldn't tell him. What did he care what a hat thinks?

All he could do is wait and watch the cursed trees around him: trees, roots, trees, gryphon, tre…

Gryphon! There were no gryphons around the hollow. Then again, they were probably nowhere near the hollow. "My lord, Godric. Shouldeth you not slay that beast in your wake. Or doth mine eyes decieveth me of that foul creature. Surely you have the fiend seeth?" the Sorting Hat questioned.

"Aye, I hath seen the animal. This creature of wonder is only a sentry," Godric Gryffindor proclaimed. "We have finally arrived!"

"My lord," the Sorting Hat questioned, "Exactly whereth hath we cometh?" He was dreading the answer. Nothing good could come from a place guarded by dragons. The Sorting Hat, though, should not have been surprised by Godric choosing to come here. Danger was practically the man's middle name. "This hath better not be another excursioneth for the Great Queen Maeve. The last time that horrible poisoneth hath thine life nearly takeneth, if not for account of Lady Rowena, Lady Helga, and Lord Salazar. I'm not sureth that they be so willingeth to save thine life for the thousandeth time."

Godric had proven to be quite daring thus far in life, which at some times was not the best attribute. He was still quite young- only about 25- yet he traveled this way and that risking his life for the sake of others. The Sorting Hat wondered if Godric cared what others would think if they lost him so soon.

"Sadly, this is about the Great Queen Maeve. She hath recently passed, leaving unaccounted young students in her school on the Green Isles. At the present time we hath no way to protect these young souls from the evil name of the Sorcerer of Darkness Mordred. Lo, I must see Lady Rowena," proclaimed Godric Gryffindor with a hint of tragedy. So they were at the family home of the House of Ravenclaw. At least he now knew where they were going. The Sorting Hat could almost sense a hint of urgency in Godric's voice as he called out his intentions to the sentry, but had no time to muse it for the gryphon stepped out of the path and Godric Gryffindor continued his nauseous ride.

oOo

"Tis a pleasure to see you in better health, Lord Godric," Rowena Ravenclaw commented as they walked through the passageways of the castle lit by several torches. The torches looked a lot like transfigured gnomes in the Sorting Hat's opinion. Godric and Rowena's robes brushed lightly on the dark stone floor as they briskly walked through secret passageways, casting long shadows on the wall. "Although the business that hath brought you here fares foul weather."

"Alas," Godric sighed pushing his long golden locks out of his face, "twas beknownst to all of us that this time would come. Queen Maeve was great, yet not beyond the clutches of death."

"Lady Helga hath feared the worst for you. We expected your arrival at today's sunrise," Rowena said glancing back with her bright blue eyes at Godric to make sure he wouldn't start spontaneously bleeding. Her face showed some concern for her friend, as he had not been fairing well lately. Fighting the "Dark Ones," which was what Mordred called his followers, was not easy. Of course, Godric could make it easier on himself by wearing a cloak that was not bright red.

"Twas no danger on my journey," Godric laughed tossing his head back. "I hath not one soul seeth with only my hat for my spirit raiseth."

However, the Sorting Hat was too preoccupied with looking at its shadow. Was he really that fat? No matter, he would not have to listen to Lord Godric and Lady Rowena chit-chat any longer to his relief.

They entered a large dark room with a long oak table at the end. Two more people sat at the end of the hall and peered through the gloom at Rowena and Godric. Of course, thought the Sorting Hat, they forgot about poor Godric's hat. They did not even offer up a greeting. All four of them knew he could think and talk, but no, they'd just ignore the hat. As if the hat would care.

"Tis that you, Lord Godric?" inquired Helga Hufflepuff gazing through the darkness with her soft brown eyes. "Mine eyes fail to see thou through this shadowy black that covers this hall."

Rowena pointed her wand towards the ceiling and an array of sparks shot out. The ceiling turned into the view of the sky above and lit the magnificent room with sunlight. All four of the friends squinted as their eyes adjusted to the light.

"Twas not beknownst to me that you find glee in the destruction of your home, Lady Rowena," stated Salazar Slytherin raising a black-gloved hand to shield his cold, sinister pits of eyes. His gloves blended in with his midnight hair and stood out against his ghostly skin and acid green robes. He could use a trip to the outside world, noted the Sorting Hat. The man did not seem to notice that his foreboding appearance only hindered his social interactions. He was lucky he even had _any_ friends at all.

"Tis only an enchantment, Lord Salazar," affirmed Rowena her pale face illuminated as she marveled at her work. She appeared younger than Godric and Salazar, yet definitely older than Helga who was the youngest of the lot. "Now this hall shall forever hath light."

"Enough of this nonsense," pronounced Godric joining Helga and Salazar at the table, "We hath important business that requires attention." Godric, like always, showed he was obviously the leader of the group no matter how rash his decisions could be. "First off, what should be done about the students of the late Great Queen Maeve?" They all bowed their heads in acknowledgement of their late mentor.

_Meanwhile in a Dorm Centuries Later…_

"Hey, let's open a freaking wizard school!" exclaimed the Helga Hufflepuff Sock Puppet. The puppet had been shouting so violently that one of the brown-button eyes fell off.

"Sirius! Shut up! You're messing up the story!" yelled the Godric Gryffindor puppet.

"Guys," said the Rowena Ravenclaw puppet, "I'm pretty sure that people did not talk like that back then. And James, why do I have to be a girl? Plus, Ravenclaw was not blue! Also, why does Salazar Slytherin have holes in him?"

"Because Slytherin sucks-_eth_, Remus," proclaimed the Gryffindor puppet.

"Why do I hath to be Slytherin then-_eth_?" asked a very squeaky Salazar.

"'Twas the only one left-_eth_ when you came back-_eth_, Peter," finished Hufflepuff.

_Back to a Really, Really, Really Long Time Ago…_

"The poor dears," sighed Helga Hufflepuff, her red locks drooping into her sorrowful face. "All alone up there without any protection, any guidance… Something must be done."

"The Dark Ones shall flock there as crows to a kill. The students will not be able to hold on to the castle for a long duration. All shall be slaughtered for resisting…" droned on Salazar while his dead eyes locked onto those at the table.

"Lord Salazar!" cried out Helga, "How can thou say such a thing! Certainly all those pupils shall not meet their doom in such a way!" Her eyes widened in terror as the thought of all those students came to her.

Rowena's knuckles were white from her clenching them so hard for the extent of Salazar's speech. Her face stood out against her raven hair from turning so pale during Salazar's speech. The Sorting Hat rolled his eyes. Salazar had always been rather morbid. He said that they were going to die when they became trapped in Helga's flaming manor which the Muggles had taken to calling "Stone Hedge", but they had escaped that mess. When Godric had come back from his last mission, Salazar had said that those days would surely be Godric's last. Godric then threw a stunner at his friend, saying he wasn't dead yet. The only time he had been right was in the case of the Great Queen Maeve (may she rest in peace). That guy really needed a vacation.

"None of the Dark Ones shall pass through those walls as long as that is where the students reside," said Godric furiously while his normally glass green eyes had a fire of vehemence in them. He stood up, banging his fist on the table. The sound echoed off the silent halls. "There must be a way to protect the students."

"The Dark Ones shall hath heard of the death of Great Queen Maeve by now," sneered Salazar standing up facing Godric. "No magic could guarantee the students' protection. The Dark Ones have magic that surpass my own skills."

"The Dark Ones only know evil magic," spat Godric, "The four of us combined hath enough skills to withstand them, unless there is something thou wish to say, Lord Salazar." Salazar and Godric were always bantering. The Sorting Hat knew this must be some sort of love hate relationship; otherwise one of them would probably be missing a head. Today, however, was much more serious than other arguments. Godric looked like he might actually launch himself across the table at Salazar, and Salazar's was slowly reaching for his wand…

"No more of this arguing," announced Helga joining the men in standing. "The students are what we are concerned about. Forget your dissimilarities for their sake, please."

"Then what can be done besides to protect them?" pondered Rowena Ravenclaw. "As Salazar said it would be difficult to hold their current position. There must be something else we can doeth."

"They shall leave the school," proclaimed Godric standing up with hope radiating from his face.

"That would be terribly risky, Lord Godric. Who would lead them?" asked Helga, concern glowing from her eyes. She was not as bold as Godric, cunning as Salazar, or witty as Rowena; but she cared a lot more for the students in general than the other three, reflected the Sorting Hat. Only she could hold together the group as a whole since they were all so different.

"We shall, of course," declared Godric, a gleam of adventure shining from him in all the sunlight's glory. Wait, thought the Sorting Hat as Godric's words caught up with his brain: _we_ were!

"My lord," croaked the Sorting Hat since he had not spoken since late morning, "who do you meaneth by 'we.'" For some reason he did not want to know.

"You and I my hat," asserted Godric, "and Ladies Rowena and Helga and Lord Salazar too if they wish to cometh." Fantastic, brooded the Sorting Hat, another life risking adventure where someone would probably end up wounded in some grievous way. Ew, he grimaced, he was starting to sound like Salazar.

"I will cometh," announced Rowena calmly.

"I as well," decreed Helga merriment bouncing in her face.

"Even if we succeed in sneaking into the school and smuggling all the students out," uttered Salazar, "to where do we lead them?" The four in the room thought in silence for a while. Great, a riddle, mused the Sorting Hat. This was Rowena's line of expertise.

_Back in the Dorm…_

"They can stay-_eth_ with me!" shrieked the Helga Hufflepuff puppet, losing the other eye. "Then the evil house-_eth_ of Black shallt flee and we can eat-_eth_ Kreacher for dinner!"

"Sirius!" shouted the Ravenclaw sock, "That's gross! And it's my line, not yours!"

"Shut-_eth_ up both of you!" hollered the Godric Gryffindor puppet in a hoarse voice. "We need to continue-_eth_ with this show. Otherwise, Sirius's dream willt really happen-_eth_."

"I can't believe," groaned the Rowena puppet, "that you two really think the school's going to fall down if we don't do a sock puppet show about how the founders founded Hogwarts."

"But it's true-_eth_!" gasped the Hufflepuff sock moving towards the Ravenclaw sock. The Hufflepuff sock started wacking and biting the Ravenclaw sock. The Gryffindor sock dived into the Battle of Sockswarts.

"Oh…" muttered the Slytherin puppet as the door swung open, "Hello-_eth_, Lily. Hi Professor McGonagall."

The three socks stopped fighting. The Gryffindor puppet slapped its puppeteer's head.

"Oh…"

_Returning yet again to a Really, Really, Really Long Time Ago…_

"They shall cometh here," decided Rowena, "This castle is large enough to accommodate all of us."

"Will they not be boredeth?" interrogated Helga turning to Rowena. Rowena began to think quickly; she had never ever increasingly forever eternally been outsmarted yet. And Helga was not going to change that, ever.

"We shall educate them just like the Great Queen Maeve did," said Rowena confidently.

Salazar rolled his eyes. Rowena was always going on and on about books and education. He was of the opinion that books were definitely not good for women. **(A/N: Insert Professor McGonagall slapping Salazar here.)**

"This is hogwash," grumbled Salazar angrily.

"You mean 'Hogwarts,'" decreed Godric with a look that decreed nobody could have come up with a better name. Salazar cracked a rare smile.

"Excuseth me my lord, but Hogwarts? What shallt people thinketh of a school by the name of 'Hogwarts?' What kindeth of a name is that," complained the Sorting Hat. The four, well, 'founders' laughed at the Sorting Hat and thought it was a brilliant name.

_Returning for the Last Time to that Dorm…really, really…_

"And that," concluded James, "is why our school is called Hogwarts." The four boys smiled up at Professor McGonagall and Lily. McGonagall did not look satisfied.

"That is a very interesting story, Mr. Potter," she said with her lips in a tight line, "Yet, it still does not explain why you were making such a racket."

Sirius butted in saying, "It was urgent, Professor. I mean, you didn't want the school to fall down. We could get hurt!"

"No offense, Sirius, but you being hurt is probably on the bottom of her list of concerns," said Remus in a matter of fact like tone.

"Ooh," teased Peter, "Sirius got burned." Everyone turned and gaped at Peter.

"Peter," gasped James, "don't you ever say that again. It scared me." Peter blushed and backed up into the corner.

"Then, if you guys are so sure about your story," spoke Lily rather haughtily, "why don't you enlighten the rest of the school with it?" Remus, James, and Peter looked horrified at the prospect of sharing their puppet show with the rest of Hogwarts, but Sirius looked delighted.

"Of course!" he exclaimed while sowing his puppet's eyes back on, "And then we can tell them the rest of the Sorting Hat's story…"

_Sixty Years After the Founding of Hogwarts, Which Was a Really, Really, Really Long Time Ago…_

Godric, Rowena, and Helga slowly and stiffly walked into the office in the tallest tower of the school. Salazar had just stormed out the front door after one of his and Godric's more frequent arguments. They presumed that he would not return again. Rowena looked at her reflection in the window. She had changed so much over the years. Gray streaks now ran through her once brown hair: she was old. They all were old. She could no longer repress that dark fear that haunted her more recent dreams.

"What is to become of our students after we are gone?" she asked the silent room.

Helga looked up with tears in her eyes. She had failed in keeping them all together. What was the use of her now? Would she just wither away in her sorrow? And Rowena had just addressed one of their worst fears. They could not let what happened at the passing of Great Queen Maeve (may she rest in peace) occur again.

"The people who follow in our stead shall need guidance," Rowena announced, gazing at her remaining companions. "Something strong to holdeth them together; a reminder to them that it is their task to accomplisheth what we broketh in our ignorance."

The Sorting Hat slept peacefully on Godric's head. Well, as peacefully as a hat can sleep. The most annoying thing about being a hat was the constant bobbing motion of everyday life. It was like being a buoy: only on someone's head. Suddenly, he was plucked off of Godric's head.

"We cannot live to the end of time, but my hat can complete this task," answered Godric firmly. "He hath our knowledge, our loyalty, our bravery, our…cunningness. Lo, now I part with my hat for the good of all." There was a little look of pain in his eyes at the mention of Salazar and his cunningness. They had been like brothers at one time. Now they would never reconcile.

Still over dramatic, wasn't he, the Sorting Hat thought. You would think that after all these years…

Wait! Godric was leaving him here all alone with dusty objects and tomes. "My lord!" exclaimed the Sorting Hat forgetting the entire grudge he sometimes held against Godric, "You do not meaneth to leave me here! Tis a man anything withouteth his hat?"

"Nay, my hat," said Godric standing up and heading towards the door after Rowena and Helga, "I now travel a road on which you cannot follow. Here is where you must reside."

"Now, leteth us not be hasty," cried the Sorting Hat. "I still am youngeth! Do not leaveth me here!"

Rowena and Helga smiled sadly at the hat and then swept out of the room. Godric pulled on his red traveling cloak, the one he always wore, and waved at the Sorting Hat before sauntering out the door.

"Fare thee well, my hat. Fare thee well," called out Godric as he disappeared from Hogwarts forever.

"My goodness, my lord. You cannot leaveth me here!" the Sorting Hat sobbed out in anguish. "Cometh back here you bigeth lethargic pansy! Whateth the-"

**Alright, that's the end of the first chapter edited. As I said in the original authors note I'd like to focus on characters that normally are not featured in the books like the Founders, some of the professors, old people, Harry's peers. I had to stick the Marauders in, though. They're kind of Dobby's Socks' original love. Oh Prongs and Evans… Please review so that I know what you think about the rewrite. Was it better or did I totally botch it?**


	2. Chapter 2: The Sorting Hat Goes Walking

**Chapter Two:**

**The Sorting Hat Goes for a Walk**

_A Few Centuries Later from the Time We Just Left…Sort of…_

Ugh, thought the Sorting Hat as he looked around the dark office. Whoever the headmaster was now (the Sorting Hat was never quite sure, they had been running through a lot recently), they surely did not care about the state of their office. There were layers of dust caked on all the shelves and there were smoke stains everywhere from the numerous candles and torches that were strewn across the room. He was surprised he had not died of smoke inhalation yet. Or from the longing to roam free among the countryside with his master. But that was to never be again.

He needed out. All these years of sitting on the shelf, and then being taken out for an hour just to sing a song once that he had spent the whole year writing and to sort students, just to be put back for the rest of the year: this was taking a toll on his sanity. From what he could remember, Master Gryffindor had intended for him to be a kind of leader for the school. He couldn't very well do that sitting on a bookshelf while a bunch of crazy old wizards ran the place. Those wizards…

There had to be a way out of the office. The Headmaster He-Who-Should-And-Probably-Did-Have-A-Name did it every day. You just had to walk through the office to the door, open the door, and walk out. It was so easy that even a Gnome could do it. However, he did have a problem. How in Merlin's Most Nauseous Potion was he going to get down from the shelf? He got an idea.

"Hey, Headmaster Rupert," he quietly said to a portrait hanging next to his shelf. The portrait stirred and the man inside it began to talk.

"What's the matter now?" Rupert Avencroft grumbled opening one eye under his bushy white uni-brow. "Are the dwarves attacking again? Those ruddy centaurs better have a good explanation for them getting past this time."

"Uh, no sir," said the Sorting Hat. Rupert was not the brightest man. He had been dead for over two centuries and had never noticed it. The other portraits sometimes gave him a hard time about it. Still, he was a good man…well, not really. "I was wondering whether you would be willing to blow me off this shelf."

"Are you mad?" asked Rupert, "I can hardly breathe in here. I'm just a portrait, see?" Rupert began blowing furiously inside his canvas. His face went through several shades of the rainbow before he passed out.

"Um…thank you for trying," said the Sorting Hat. He needed a plan B. And fast: it was getting dark outside. The Sorting Hat glanced over the edge. It was a long way down, but it would be worth it. Using all the strength he could muster, he forced himself over the edge. He hit the floor below hard. That was going to hurt in the morning. Now just to get outside…

OoO

The Sorting Hat landed in a ungraceful heap outside on the grounds after a long fall from the Headmaster's Tower. He could swear it had taken him two hours to fall. There had been a lot of things in the air when he fell like a blind owl, another gryphon, a dwarf hanging from the gryphon with a sack that contained all of the lost treasures of the wizarding world, a sock, and Baba Yaga's house that had somehow sprouted wings. Still, he was alive, so he might enjoy his stroll outside.

The grounds still looked the same as they had when the Sorting Hat first arrived here. Except there were some Muggle bubble wands growing out of the ground and the North Pole had decided to move in next to Hogwarts. He looked to his left and saw the woods and decided that was where he wanted to go. Nothing could happen in a pit of twigs especially without Master Gryffindor…

OoO

A lot of things can happen in a pit of twigs, the Sorting Hat determined. There were a ton of scary creatures that glared at the Sorting Hat with looks of utter disgust…and confusion. The Sorting Hat hoped that he would meet someone he recognized. He could use a hug. The Sorting Hat was pretty certain that he was going crazy.

The forest was now overgrown and foreboding. Maybe it was because he was looking at the world from the ground for the first time in his life. The trees were draped in vines over the sinister folds of their muddy bark. They casted long shadows under the waning moon. At least he didn't have to worry about werewolves tonight.

The Sorting Hat was beginning to tire; he had never had to carry himself before. It was time to go back to the castle. The only problem was that he didn't quite know where the castle was in relation to his current position. He had hardly seen the inside of these woods and he now knew why. The children and staff called it "Forbidden" for a good reason. The trees had seemed to close up behind him.

There were only about 346,782 paths in front, behind, to the left, to the right, above, below, and diagonal of the Sorting Hat. He had no idea where he had come from. Rowena really should have put in some signposts before she left. A nice big brightly painted sign saying "Hogwarts: 2 miles this way" would have been nice. She could have painted some nice wands, or bunnies, or little wandering children on it.

He heard a twig snap not too far from where he sat. The Sorting Hat tensed up for a moment until he saw the human foot that had stepped on the twig. There were people in the forest! Hooray! He was saved. All he had to do was get their attention.

"Albus, I don't think this is the way we are supposed to be going," said a little brown-haired boy timidly. His eyes darted around the forest at every noise made. The Sorting Hat's heart sank. They did not know where they were going either.

"Of course we are not leaving yet, Elphias," declared Albus. "We still have not found a centaur." Oh no. They were looking for centaurs. He couldn't think why anyone in their right mind would actively try to enter the centaurs' region in the forest- aside from Master Gryffindor. Then again, the foot belonged to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, only a first year, but still as brilliant as any seventh year student. The Sorting Hat had always thought that his name was not very good, but Albus Dumbledore's name was completely ridiculous. It perfectly suited his sometimes pompous and nearly always ridiculous attitude.

"Ahem," stated the Sorting Hat clearing his throat. Both boys looked around for the source of the noise (Elphias looked ready to jump out of his skin) and failed to locate the Sorting Hat causing him to sigh in frustration. "Down here by the tree trunk." Albus looked down and chuckled upon seeing the Sorting Hat on the ground.

"Look, Elphias. It is just the Sorting Hat," chortled Albus. Elphias appeared relieved and changed from a rather green-like color to his normal shade. "Why in Merlin's Beard are you down here, Mr. Hat?" Mr. Hat? He dared to call him Mr. Hat? No one called him Mr. Hat!

"Mr. Hat was my father," grumbled the Sorting Hat. "He is not someone I care to discuss."

"Hats do not have fathers!" exclaimed Elphias as if the Sorting Hat had just called him and Albus giant squids. "They are made out of fabric!"

"That's not the point!" shouted the Sorting Hat. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. "I was wondering whether one of you _polite_ gentlemen could direct me in the right direction out of this awful den. I was going on a stroll…"

Elphias insisted on interrupting again, "Hats cannot go on strolls. How can you even walk without having legs?"

Now the Sorting Hat was really testy. "Be quiet!" he bellowed. "So what if I do not have legs. I am obviously on a walk whether it is realistic or not. This is the _Wizarding World_! Anything can and will happen! Who knows? One day we could be fighting an evil dark sorcerer and the next we could be dancing with fairies and performing in sock puppet studios. Now will you just tell me the way out?"

Albus smiled pleasantly and said, "We are not exactly sure where we are going ourselves, but the centaurs might know. If you want to go home then help us find the centaurs." This kid was clever. He knew precisely how to get what he wanted. The Sorting Hat really had no choice in the matter.

"Alright," he groaned, "I will help you find the centaurs. But it is not my fault if they kill us."

OoO

"Here centaur, centaur," whispered the Sorting Hat in a high terrified voice. He had led them to the place he heard the Headmaster say they normally stay, but they were not here.

"I do not think they are home," squeaked Elphias. "Maybe we should go back to the castle."

"Not yet," announced Albus. "I am sure they are around here somewhere."

There was a snort behind them. All three of them turned around and came face to face with the largest, scariest centaur the Sorting Hat had ever seen. Of course, this was the first centaur he had ever seen from the ground. They hadn't seemed as frightening when he sat on Master Gryffindor's head. Albus's blue eyes lit up with excitement. The sight for some reason felt very familiar to the Sorting Hat. He could not pinpoint why, though.

"Who dares to enter the cove of the centaurs," growled the large centaur with hair as dark as the night sky above. His black eyes pierced through every thread of the Sorting Hat's shaking body. "I could feel that unwelcomed visitors would intrude here tonight. After all, Mars is bright tonight."

Albus looked up at the night sky. "Really?" he asked. "Oh! I do believe you are correct." Elphias looked completely confused. Albus must have fallen off his rocker, or more likely the Astronomy Tower.

"What do you mean, Albus," hissed Elphias. "I do not see anything." Albus nudged him slightly in the ribs and Elphias got the message. So did the Sorting Hat. He was trying to trick the centaur.

"Why, of course!" said Elphias in a rather fake intelligent voice. "I cannot believe that I did not see it before!" The centaur seemed to approve of these statements. The Sorting Hat felt he should help them.

"Yes," he shouted like he was talking to his grandmother, who had been a rather deaf bonnet. "Everyone is in terrible danger. Also, every cat in Hogwarts shall join the Wizard symphony and sing Beethoven's fifth while eating hot chili peppers. We should leave at once."

"I quite agree," chimed in Albus. "Good day to you, Mr. Centaur. I hope we will meet again." The centaur nodded.

"I hope so too, Albus Dumbledore. The stars speak great things of you. They also say you should take the third path to the left," proclaimed the centaur. He walked off into the darkness.

Albus picked up the Sorting Hat and turned to Elphias. "We should take the Sorting Hat back to the Headmaster's office. I think the stars said something about Professor Tanner waiting outside the forest to take us up to the Headmaster's office so that he can give us a week's worth of detention scrubbing ink off of all the teacher's desks."

Elphias moaned. "Why do you get me in these situations, Albus?" The Sorting Hat hoped he would not get detention too. He could not scrub for the lack of hands.

OoO

The Sorting Hat dropped the toothbrush in his mouth and pivoted on the spot. "You owe me, Albus Dumbledore," he said to the eleven-year-old sitting at the desk next to him. "It is not easy to scrub a desk with a toothbrush. I have been at it for a whole half hour."

"It must be better than sitting up in the display case," stated Albus. "A little trouble cannot kill anyone." The Sorting Hat could feel that this would be the start of a very rocky friendship.

"Stupid Gryffindors," he muttered.

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter and I thank Angel-of-Vampires for reviewing. Any comments, questions, suggestions, critiques, hopes, fears, and dreams can be sent to me through REVIEWING! Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Name Game

**Sorry I'm taking so long to update. School has not been easy. Anyhow, thanks to anyone who read my story and a special thank you to Angel-of-Vampires, gudbooks, and Reader-Writer who all reviewed. Enjoy the chapter.**

**Chapter 3:**

**The Name Game**

The Sorting Hat was really upset. He had just gotten a twenty-pound letter today containing all his mail for the past century. This happened all the time with the new mail system. Who needed a post office? He would send out mail and receive it back because nobody believed in talking hats, and the people who did never got their letters to him before they died. If only he could find a way to ensure that all his mail went to him…

Lord Godric always obtained his letters as long as the sender or carrier was not eaten. Mail had been so unreliable in those days. If people would take him seriously then his devoted fans would be able to reach him. What was so different between people and him?

He got it! People had names! Of course he had a "name" but it was not like people who insisted on calling themselves "Philip" or "Janice" or "Alfonzo" or even "Gertrude." Otherwise they would all be "The Person with the Big Nose" or even "The Person Whose Mouth Will Not Stop Flapping." All the Sorting Hat had to do was get himself one of those names. How could he find a name?

The Sorting Hat looked to the portrait beside him. "Headmaster Avencroft," he whispered in his most polite voice, "are you awake?"

Bolting up in his seat, the man bellowed, "GOBLINS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! Do something about it you stupid hat! Can't you see them?" The Sorting Hat looked around and all he could see were the angry faces of all the other portraits.

"It's just the other portraits, sir," he responded trying not to sound annoyed. "I was wondering whether I could ask you something." Rupert Avencroft looked happy that someone was finally asking for his advice for certainly nobody did while he was living. But then he furrowed his eyebrows.

"You better not be asking me to blow you off that shelf again. I would have thought you had learned your lesson by now," Rupert angrily chastised. The Sorting Hat decided to play innocent.

"Of course not, Headmaster. I was simply wondering whether you could do me a small favor. I am in need of a name so that people can get their letters to me. You happen to have one that you are not using right now, so I was wondering whether I could borrow it perhaps," the Sorting Hat asked.

Unfortunately, Rupert Avencroft looked offended. "I still use my name," he spat turning purple in the face. "I use it all the time. How would you like it if someone stole your name after you died? Oh, I forgot. You're a hat and hats do not die. Well for your information you stuck up pig-snouted Griffin, I don't care if you belonged to Godric Gryffindor at one time or another; but you can never ever have my name as long as I am Rupert Socrates Avencroft, so there!"

The last bit hurt a lot. Sure, he and Lord Godric had not gotten along very well at times, but that man was his hero. Rupert Avencroft had picked open a swollen wound. "Better shake this off," the Sorting Hat thought, "otherwise I'll never get anything done." He decided that he would ask some of the other paintings.

"Attention paintings of Hogwarts. I am in search of a name to use. If any of you would be kind enough to lend me one I would greatly appreciate it."

The portraits all grumbled and went back to sleep. How did the Headmasters ever get information out of these paintings the Sorting Hat did not know. It looked as if he was out of luck for a name. His heart fell as he thought of the fact that he would have to live the rest of his life looking forward to the next century.

Then a set of footsteps outside the door lifted his spirits as a maniacal plan came to his mind…

OoO

Albus Dumbledore was worried. This was strange for he was often a rather light-hearted person that everyone enjoyed being with. When he was down about something, everyone could feel the chill of his mood. Today was one of those days.

All of the students sat quietly in the Gryffindor common room studying or reading catching quick glances up at Albus as he sat musing in the corner. His friend, sixteen-year-old Elphias Dodge, finally felt it was time to find out what was bothering Albus. He walked over and sat down next to Albus catching a menacing glare from Albus's fifteen-year-old brother Aberforth.

"Albus," said Elphias as quietly as possible, "What is bothering you so much?"

Albus looked up and attempted to smile at his friend. "It is nothing, quite frankly. However, since you asked I might as well tell," he responded. Everyone in the common room lifted their eyes up and listened to Albus speak. "Have you noticed anything odd lately, Elphias?"

"Nothing of the sort. I mean, you've been rather silent today…" Elphias stammered knowing he was on the spotlight.

"No, not about me," Albus laughed, his eyes twinkling. "I was saying that something is out of place." Nobody pretended not to be listening anymore, including Aberforth, which was quite a feat. "The Headmaster has been missing for several days and none of the professors seem to know anything about it."

"That is really not abnormal at all, Albus," Aberforth sneered. "Practically every other day we are replacing the Headmaster."

Albus looked disapprovingly at his brother. "There is something else," Albus stated, "I have heard some strange noises recently and I think they might have something to do with the Headmaster's disappearance."

Elphias gasped, "Do you think it might be a Sphinx or a dragon or a manticore or maybe," he shivered, "a basilisk?"

Everyone in the room looked terrified except for Aberforth who appeared to be just plain annoyed. "Manticores and basilisks are not real. Nobody has ever really seen one," he groused.

Elphias had a hurt look on his face. "Nobody has ever lived if they have seen one," Elphias retorted turning red in the face. "Why can't you believe anything, Aberforth?"

Albus intervened before Aberforth could send another nasty comment back. "Aberforth, that's enough. Elphias, I do not think that we need to be that worried yet, for surely if it were a dark creature it would have attacked by now. I believe that we should visit the Headmaster's office, though." All of the other students had excited looks on their faces. Whenever Albus and Elphias went off on some sort of adventure the end results were always humorous, to them at least.

"Alright, Albus. But we had better not get in trouble again," Elphias sighed as he stood up to leave.

OoO

Albus and Elphias walked through the dark halls of Hogwarts. There were stains all over the walls and the torches had all mysteriously disappeared. They felt their way along the wall, as they got closer to the seventh floor. Elphias had just found the gargoyle by tripping over it when they heard someone behind them. Albus, who had been reluctant to use any wand light before this moment incase if someone tried to follow them, turned around on the spot and whipped his wand out. He lit it and found himself face to face with Aberforth.

"Aberforth, why are you here," moaned Albus.

Aberforth, looking grumpy as ever, replied, "I'm not letting you two have all of the wand light this time. Anyone can be just as great as you two." Elphias looked plain annoyed, but Albus decided to ignore his brother.

"We'll need a password," contemplated Albus out loud.

"Of course we will," scoffed Aberforth, "I mean, this is only the Headmaster's office." Elphias glared at Aberforth as he mocked his friend and Albus placed a hand on Elphias's shoulder to keep him from strangling Aberforth.

"Well," huffed Elphias, "What would it be? Wendolyn the Weird? The Battle of London Bridge?" They continued guessing for nearly fifteen minutes until out of nowhere, Albus said, "Waddawassi." This caused the gargoyle to hop aside letting the three boys enter the staircase.

"Where did you get Waddawassi from, Albus?" asked an intrigued Elphias.

"Someone had written 'Don't say Waddawassi' faintly on the wall behind the gargoyle upside down," chuckled an amused Albus. As they crept up the staircase they heard muffled talking in the office. There was more than one person behind the door from the sound of it. Elphias let out a muffled yelp as his foot sunk into one of the stairs. Aberforth knocked into something on the wall and it spilled a foul, thick smelly liquid all over him.

"Albus," he gasped, "Is this blood?" Albus put a finger up to his mouth to tell the others to be quiet. Someone was speaking loud enough to hear now.

"No…I think we should throw him out the window," cackled an unfamiliar voice. There was some shuffling inside and then someone began to plead.

"Please…no…don't do this…" wheezed the voice of an old man. The three boys looked at each other with looks of silent horror.

"We can't let you get away. You'll tell someone what we are doing," said a cranky lower voice. "And if you try to leave and tell them about…then we will destroy everything you hold dear."

"No! Do not hurt my family, workers, or the students. Or the paintings: their beauty is what holds the school together. It can even make a sock into something new and extraordinary. You can…have the…houselves. I'll give…it up."

The cackling voice spoke again, "I still think we are letting him off to easy…we should destroy everything and then you can have…too. And what about our deal?"

Albus had heard enough by now. He pulled out his wand and blasted the door down. The sight there shocked him.

In the middle of the room were all the torches in the school, unlit, in a pile under the Headmaster who was upside-down suspended in the air. He was blind folded and bound head to foot. Holding his wand was a strange little blue man in a strange pinstriped suit floating in midair. His eyes were wide with glee and he smiled with sharp white teeth. Of course, the master of this plan was sitting on the desk looking up at Albus: the one and only Sorting Hat.

"What are you doing?" sighed Albus as Aberforth tried to take the wand from the blue man. "Aberforth don't bother him he's a…" the man waved the wand and Aberforth sprouted out in boils, "poltergeist."

"I needed a name," said the Sorting Hat indignantly, "and nobody would lend me one. I cannot receive mail when the post will not send it to me. So, I decided to steal one and I invited Peeves here to help. We had a deal that he could stay here if he helped. They closed his old school and he was ever so lonely. It was all going perfectly well until you came along."

"You cannot steal a name," said Elphias while disarming the poltergeist. "It has to be given to you."

"You could apply for a name change," suggested Albus while helping the Headmaster down. The man shook his head, but after being upside down for such a long time he fainted.

"It's really that simple?" questioned the Sorting Hat. The boys nodded in response. "Alright, let us get started."

They all sat down, and Albus pulled out a quill from the desk. Aberforth could not help noticing, grudgingly of course, that his brother somehow looked strangely at home in this chair behind the Headmasters desk. Not that it meant he was going to be Headmaster someday…

"Name," asked Albus. The Sorting Hat glowered silently at him. "Never mind. How about desired name?" The Sorting Hat then realized that he had never really thought a ton about what he actually wanted his name to be.

"Um…"

"How about Bartimus?" suggested Elphias.

"Or Harold?" proposed Albus.

"No…" the Sorting Hat trailed.

"Romulus?"

"Henry?"

"Quincy?"

"Nathaniel?"

"No," said the Sorting Hat. "They're nice names, but I want something more original. Something that reflects my characteristics."

"Cranky? Geezer?" suggested Aberforth rudely. The other two boys glared at him and then resumed listing names. Some things were better left unsaid.

"Abelard? Adler? Beroald?" Albus listed. Elphias looked at Albus as if he were talking in a foreign language, which only made Aberforth mad since he was still covered in stink sap.

"Um…how about Wolfgang or Clovis?" recommended Elphias racking his brain for the weirdest names he could think of.

Peeves began to cackle. "How about Phats? Or maybe you would like…DUNGBOMB! Hehehehehehehehehe!!!" With that he pulled out a dungbomb, threw it, and zoomed away to forever more cause chaos in the school. Aberforth was the only one hit.

"You could borrow one of Albus's names," he derided. "He already has too many."

"No thank you," he quickly said. Albus Dumbledore had names that could only belong to a person like him. He would be laughed at if he had a name like Wulfric.

"Or maybe something related since you two are so buddy-buddy. Like maybe Gewain or…Lancelot?" Aberforth had no idea what he had gotten himself into. He would regret even suggesting that last name within a few minutes.

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN…EVER YOU HEAR ME?!" the Sorting Hat roared, waking the portraits up. All three of the boys inched back in their seats, Elphias and Aberforth looking terrified, and Albus looking plain alarmed. The Headmaster woke up, banged his head on the desk, and fell back down. He was not having a good day. "IT IS A FOUL NAME THAT SHOULD NEVER BE USED ON THIS PLANET AGAIN!"

"I'm…sorry," stuttered Aberforth, quivering in his seat looking more like his age than anyone had seen him appear as in a long time. The Sorting Hat realized he had scared everyone and calmed down.

"Excuse me. I should not of erupted like that. None of you have any idea what I am talking about. Not that it matters anymore. It's lost history and what's done is done," the Sorting Hat sighed. The wizards did not care about all the history lost. Then again, it was they who destroyed it. He would never understand why they would demolish their roots. "Maybe something less…mythical." So the process went on for another hour and a half.

"Connor?"

"No."

"Roberto?"

"No."

"Constantine?"

"No."

"Lucius?"

"No, too girly."

"Severus?"

"Too slimy sounding."

"Moldywart?"

"No, no, NO! These names are just not right; they are meaningless to me. They are people names not names for a hat!" Then the Sorting Hat realized something. He was happy with the name he had. "Sorry to interrupt, but I now think that I will just keep my name." Aberforth groaned, stood up, and stomped out of the room. Elphias rolled his eyes and plopped down into one of the wooden chairs in exhaustion. Albus just smiled.

"I had a feeling that you would be happier with your own name. Somehow it just fits you. Now about your letter problem: I think I have found a solution. Ask the Headmaster to stamp the Hogwart's seal on the back. The Ministry and the Muggle Post will take your letters more seriously then." The Sorting Hat thought about it and scolded himself for being outsmarted once again by Albus Dumbledore.

"Alright," he said trying not to sound too happy that somebody had solved his problems for him.

"Um, Mr. Sorting Hat?" asked Elphias curiously. "Before we go I have one question to ask you."

"Well then, go on," the Sorting Hat impatiently declared.

"If you are a hat, how do you write letters?" Elphias Dodge always got on the Sorting Hat's bad side, probably for questioning the Sorting Hat's (and the author's) sanity. He could quickly tell that now would be a good time to leave. "I will just be going now." Elphias jumped out of the chair and dragged Albus out of the office with him.

"SHUT UP!!!!!" the Sorting Hat bellowed. The Headmaster sat up, hit his head on the bookcase, and fell back down once more. He was sent to St. Mungo's the next day and never returned from there. And thus, the only thing accomplished by this day was that Peeves joined the ghosts at Hogwarts, which most of the staff would say that it did not accomplish anything at all, whatsoever.

**And now I hope that you will all review by pressing that magical little button on the bottom left corner. Honestly, you could just leave a review saying "Hi, my dog ate my shoes this morning" or "My brother keeps on foaming at the mouth and he drinks all the tomato juice in my house everyday. What should I do?" I will answer these questions (if possible), but I would hope you would leave something more constructive. Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4: To Catch a Beast

Hello again readers. Finals are now over and I have time to update. Anyhow, there is another time change in this chapter just to clear up any confusion. A thank you goes out to the people who have read and especially to those who reviewed.

**Chapter 4:**

**To Catch a Beast**

Something strange was going on inside the school. Everyone was being unnaturally quiet and some of the Sorting Hat's friends (paintings, ghosts, staff members, and students) had begun to disappear. Armando Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts, spent unusually lengthy amounts of time outside the office. It was a shame too, the Sorting Hat had really begun to be fond of the old man with him having been there for over a decade: a remarkable feat. At least he was completely agreeable, unlike a certain other party.

Speaking of that other party, he had just opened the office door. Albus Dumbledore, fully grown now and a much wiser man strode into the office and looked around. He noticed the Sorting Hat and put a smile on his troubled face. "Why hello, Mr. Sorting Hat," he calmly said tipping his pointed hat, "You're looking well."

"Dumbledore," he answered coldly. He could not forget the experiences he had been through because of this man and his friend, Elphias Dodge. They were both quite renown now: Elphias for his travels and the books he had written upon his return, and Albus for defeating Gellert Grindewald…why it must have been two summers ago. "You seem fine as well. I'm assuming all is well with Elphias. Good. I have business to attend to and it seems you do too. However, if you're not busy, I suppose you could answer a question for me."

"Of course, my friend," he responded pleasantly with a twinkle in his eye. Curse the day he got that twinkle, seethed the Sorting Hat in his brain. He would have to reprimand Albus later for calling them friends.

"Well," he began off coolly but soon lost this peaceful nature, "what in Merlin's most hideous plaid jumper is going on in this school? Everyone is so…quiet and nervous. I moved a centimeter to the left and Headmaster Dippet jumped out of his chair with his wand out as though he were expecting something to attack him."

"You've done so before," chuckled Albus.

"That's not the point here. I was wondering if there was something behind it. Headmaster Avencroft over there left for a brandy with the three monks and never returned and the bloody Baron has not been hollering, and Peeves is everywhere!" he exclaimed. Peeves had stuffed him full of stink pellets a few days ago and when poor little Filius Flitwick came to fetch him from the shelf. Being no more than two feet tall, the first year had decided to use magic to lift the Sorting Hat off the shelf (Oh how the Ravenclaws did enjoy his company. They had the most fascinating questions to ask him and really appreciated his age) having successfully been able to levitate things for several months. The Sorting Hat had really tried to warn the boy, but with him being excited at finally having an opportunity to practice his magic skills, he performed the charm. Before he knew it, he was covered in stink sap. The Sorting Hat had been hit as well, and no matter how smart the Ravenclaws were, they put him through the Hogwarts laundry system.

It had been a nightmare and he still dreamed about the constant tumbling, turning, soaking, and hot spells in those monstrous sinks in the kitchens. Then, the houselves had sown some hideous patches on him and now he looked like any other old hat. They were going to sew together his eyes because they looked like 'holes in the fabric, those careless children' when he had begun to holler. Thank goodness Albus Dumbledore had been taking his sixth year Transfiguration class outside. The prefect for Gryffindor, a nice stern girl named Minerva McGonagall, and a prefect for Slytherin, a rather handsome secretive boy called Tom Riddle, came bursting through the door with their wands out. He was rescued and Tom and Minerva got in a fight over who deserved the points. They had never been on good terms and both being prefects made it worse. It reminded him of the banters Lord Godric and Lord Salazar used to get into. Albus had to break up the fight, and he returned the sorting Hat to his rightful position.

Of course, that was not the point. He just really wondered how Peeves was getting so out of hand when he was terrified of the Bloody Barron. The only way would be if the Barron had vanished, and that would be quite terrible for Hogwarts indeed. However, the Sorting Hat was more nervous now about the look on Albus's face now.

Albus Dumbledore looked rather downcast and the twinkle in his eyes had disappeared. "Something is attacking the inhabitants of the castle and turning them to stone. **(A/N: Reference from the inside cover of The Chamber of Secrets for those who do not know. Stone means petrified. How this is logical? I don't know.) **It is the monster from inside the Chamber of Secrets." The Chamber of Secrets, the Sorting Hat thought amusingly, that was supposed to have been created by Lord Salazar before he left. "Some of your comrades that you have noticed missing are among the victims. If the culprit is not found soon, I am afraid the school might close."

The Sorting Hat's eyes widened in terror at this thought. If they closed the school, he might be all alone forever. Even his songs would be no good if nobody were there to sing them to. He would be so bored. And what if the wizards forgot him? The Sorting Hat shivered: he would be left to rot. "Is there anything that any of us could do?"

Albus shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not. We have already lost too many staff members and students to the monster. It would be best for all who can to stay out of danger. However, if you see or hear anything suspicious, I would certainly appreciate the information. Good evening." He tipped his hat and took his leave of the hat. The Sorting Hat decided he would have to do something about this. Lord Godric would have done something if his school were in danger. The Sorting Hat then got a wonderful idea. He would go find the Chamber of Secrets! If anyone were to know where Lord Salazar was to hide a secret room, it would be him. He, by the way, was the only one to really know the man. But how was he to get out of the office? Dumbledore had warned the staff members of his previous excursions so only somebody completely feeble-minded would possibly let him out…

His opportunity came to him squeezing through the door. Horace Slughorn, a younger member of the staff who was particularly…well to be nice…plump, had just wobbled into the office. The Sorting Hat smiled evilly to himself. This was too easy…

"HORACE SLUGHORN," bellowed the hat in his most intimidating lowest voice he could make at that volume, "THIS IS THE GHOST OF MERLIN!!!"

The man gasped and fell down to his knees with his head facing the ground. "By Jove! Are you really? What do you command great magical one?"

"YOU ARE TO TAKE THAT MARVELOUS HAT DOWN FROM THE SHELVES AND TO PLACE HIM ON THE GROUND. YOU MUST NOT TELL ANYBODY OF THIS INCIDENT, ESPECIALLY ALBUS DUMBLEDORE."

Slughorn made some reverent unbalanced bows, stammering, "Y-y-yes, oh mighty o-one!" With that, he took the Sorting Hat off the shelf and scuttled out of the office.

The Sorting Hat chuckled to himself, "What a fool. Now off to find that chamber: it can't be too hard to find. There are not many places to hide huge chambers…"

OoO

The Sorting Hat was huffing and puffing as he reached the bottom of the staircase. Who knew that it would take so much energy to tumble down stairs? He peered over the edge of the fourth floor landing. Dizziness overtook him as he saw how many stairs he would have to fall down just to reach the first floor. "Lord Salazar would probably have hid it in the dungeons," mumbled the Sorting Hat.

"Hid what?" asked a squeaky voice. The Sorting Hat cursed under his breath and turned to face Filius Flitwick looking inquisitively at him.

"My…uh…toothbrush," stuttered the Sorting Hat. He then felt like slapping himself in the head because he did not have any teeth.

"I doubt that Salazar Slytherin would have wanted to hide your toothbrush," said Filius. Of course, someone could always take that route instead. Filius reminded him a lot of Elphias Dodge when he had been younger. Luckily for Elphias, however, he had friends like Albus Dumbledore and did not get knocked down in the halls everyday. "Maybe you would like to take a stroll with me? We're not supposed to go out alone in the halls anymore, but if we are caught, I can say we were just on our way to the Ravenclaw Common room." The Sorting Hat liked Filius: he had a plan to get out of sticky situations unlike Albus. With that, they were off on their stroll.

On the way, they ran into Myrtle Sanders, a second year who was sobbing as she made her way down the hall. "Why, Myrtle," said the Sorting Hat, "are you sobbing when you could be with your friends in the common room?"

"I don't have any friends," she spat. "And Olive Hornby was making fun of my glasses again."

Filius gave her a sympathetic look. "Don't let Olive bother you. She's only teasing you to make you cry. If you ignore her, then she'll stop."

"She'll never stop," cried Myrtle while her glasses fogged up. Myrtle ran down the hall into the Grand Staircase. The Sorting Hat told Filius to run after her but as they reached the landing, they ran into Minerva McGonagall.

"Oh no," moaned Filius. The Sorting Hat was in deep water if McGonagall turned them over to the Headmaster.

"What are you doing up out of hours?" interrogated Minerva looking over the brim of her glasses. Her stare made the Sorting Hat want to shrivel up and go cry in a corner.

Thank goodness Filius was able to keep his head in this situation. "I was just taking the Sorting Hat to the Ravenclaw Common room so that we could talk to him. He gets awful lonely and it's such a waste of knowledge to leave him there all day."

"Oh, I'm so lonely!" exclaimed the Sorting Hat dramatically while flopping over in Filius's arms.

Minerva sighed and was about to let them leave when somebody said, "Ten points from Ravenclaw for wandering around the halls after hours." They all whirled around to see Tom Riddle standing at the other end of the hall leaning on a gargoyle. "My, my, Minerva, I can't believe you were going to let them go. I'm afraid I may have to report this to Headmaster Dippet. After all, these are such dangerous times," he drawled with a haughty smirk on his face.

"This is my patrol area, Riddle, and I can deal with whoever wanders in here on my own," Minerva snapped. They continued to argue over prefect policies when Professor Slughorn waddled around the corner with sweat streaking down his face shouting that he had talked to the ghost of Merlin. The Sorting Hat and Filius took the opportunity to escape the prefects. Deciding that now would be a good time to ask, the Sorting Hat began to question Filius about the Chamber of Secrets.

"I don't know much about it besides the legend, so I'm afraid that I'm not much help. However, I have a feeling that Salazar Slytherin would have hid it somewhere that nobody would guess. Especially not you…"

"Me! I knew the man…" the Sorting Hat interrupted.

"Which is precisely your problem Mr. Sorting Hat. He did not want anyone to find it, so he would obviously hide it from people who knew him. You're a hat, sir, so that means you're basically immortal," said Filius. The Sorting Hat had never thought of this in that angle. Considering Salazar would have hidden it from him, he had no chance of finding it. "Maybe you need to do more research, after all," Filius added quickly, "it cannot be impossible to find. Someone will discover it sooner or later."

"Yes," the Sorting Hat responded absent-mindedly. "I suppose we should start where Salazar never usually went. We should start on the seventh floor." Filius started to carry him up the stairs when they heard a scream resounding from the second floor. "That must be the BEAST!!!! We must save those peasants!!!!!! Whoops," he said, "sorry, wrong time period." Filius sighed and ran down to the second floor.

OoO

Minerva stormed down the hall in a rage that only Riddle could put her in. He always tried to take over her prefect duties and to beat her in every class. She worked extremely hard to get good marks but all he did was charmed the teachers. "Some prefect," she thought, "he gets everything he wants, except in Dumbledore's class." Minerva had to smile to herself; Dumbledore did not let Riddle get away with any of his nonsense in Transfiguration. This made it her favorite and best subject.

However, as she passed the Transfiguration classroom that night she was not in a good mood at all: there was another student out of bed standing in front of the Second Floor bathroom. Pomona Sprout was not going to be let go as easily as Filius unfortunately…

"Sprout!" Minerva barked causing the first year to turn around terrified. "Out of bed out of hours. This will cost your house. 25 points from Hufflepuff." She felt a lot better now.

"I was sent here by Professor Hughes to find Myrtle Sanders," cried Pomona. "She left the Common room three hours ago and hasn't come back. I heard she went into the bathroom so I came here; she always comes here when Olive Hornby is mean to her. I was too scared to go in because the monster might be in there, since it could be anywhere. I'm sorry I broke the rules. Please don't let the monster eat me."

Minerva now felt really bad about taking her anger out on Sprout. "Come on," she said. "We'll go in there together. Sanders should be glad to have some company." They walked into the bathroom, which was rather dark for the nighttime. "Sanders," she murmured. Something about the surroundings gave her the chills. As she reached the first stall the door to the bathroom slammed shut plunging the room into complete darkness. She heard Pomona's whimper echo off the walls of the room. Then she tripped over something on the floor.

"_Lumos_," she said. Minerva squinted through the bright light. What she saw made her want to throw up. There was a foot sticking out of the second stall. This foot was connected to a body. A very limp body that lay motionless on the floor with eyes that no longer saw any light. Myrtle Sanders lay dead on the bathroom floor. Minerva then realized that she was screaming at the top of her lungs, but some else was as well.

OoO

Pomona crept into the bathroom behind Minerva McGonagall. This bathroom always gave her the creeps since the beginning of the year. She did not know why, only that no one believed there was anything wrong. She could not help to think about how things began to be shifted around the room once the attacks began. One day a plant would be by the door and the next it was standing next to the last stall.

"Myrtle," she called out timidly. Maybe she should have accepted some of the help her dorm mates had offered. She was not brave like McGonagall, yet she still felt the need to prove her worth. She could not stand being labeled as a scared Hufflepuff. "Myrtle," she said a bit louder. Then she stopped in her tracks, there was somebody hiding in the shadows. She turned to go tell McGonagall but the lights went out. She saw something dash pass her and out the door. Pomona could tell it was a boy before complete darkness enveloped the room.

She made her way towards the wall so she could find the door. They would have to get a teacher. Pomona shivered as a ghost went through her. "Please watch," she said before realizing who the ghost was. This ghost was crying to herself as her round glasses fogged up; her normally brown hair now a shade of clear silver.

"Well, excuse me. I can't help that I'm dead!" hissed Myrtle Sanders. She floated off through the other wall moaning and crying. Pomona screamed and did not notice when the door banged open.

OoO

Filius opened the doors to the girl's bathroom without even thinking about how much trouble he would be in if a prefect or a teacher caught him. "Wait," protested the Sorting Hat. "We cannot go in there. That's the girl's bathroom. Just think if Dippet were to come here. My word, and I thought you knew what you were doing."

The Sorting Hat turned on the light with the tip of his head. "And if Rowena were here now, my, my, I would have been served as the giant squid's dinner." He stopped talking as he saw little Pomona Sprout screaming as if she had been stuck with a thousand pins. He looked around to make sure the beast was not there.

"Pomona," Filius asked. "What's the matter? Are you alright?" She did not respond. It was if she could not hear them. The Sorting Hat then noticed that somebody else was screaming. As Filius continued to attempt talking to Pomona, the Sorting Hat flopped out of Filius's hands and rolled toward the stalls.

Minerva McGonagall who normally looked mature and dignified sat on the floor screaming like a child. The Sorting Hat would have chuckled if he had not seen the foot sticking out underneath the second stall's door. He rolled over more and saw what he already knew what must have been true. Myrtle Sanders lay dead on the bathroom floor. He felt like a failure. The beast had been here and gone and killed a student. He had not found the Chamber of Secrets or killed the beast. _Lord Godric must be turning in his grave_, thought the Sorting Hat. _He always found the monster_.

Albus Dumbledore ran into the room and saw Myrtle lying dead on the floor. The twinkle faded out of his eyes as he saw this scene. He reached down and picked up the Sorting Hat. "This is a sad day for Hogwarts," he said gravely. "There is nothing less than catching the heir of Slytherin that could keep the school open."

The rest of the night passed in a blur as the teachers moved Myrtle's body. Filius, Minerva, and Pomona were taken to the hospital wing to rest from the terrible event. The most surprising event was that Tom Riddle caught the Heir of Slytherin. It was a third year named Rubeus Hagrid. Hagrid was expelled, but allowed to stay at Hogwarts as gamekeeper, to many people's dismay. The attacks ceased to occur.

Yet something did not seem right. The Sorting Hat could swear that Hagrid was an honorable man. He needed someone to assure him. And of course, the only man that could confirm anything of this matter was Albus Dumbledore. He was given the chance to talk to him a fortnight later when Albus came to talk to Headmaster Dippet. Dippet was out on a call from the Ministry. Peeve's second cousin had decided to haunt the Hall of Prophesy and nearly four-dozen prophesy orbs had been broken.

"Ah, Dumbledore," he said trying to sound old and wise. "You seem…well."

"What do you wish to know," answered Albus smiling without looking up from the desk. He was looking over some of the complaints that had begun to pile up on the Headmaster's desk. Dippet was lucky to have a man like Dumbledore as hie Deputy Headmaster.

"I am just not positive that we have actually caught the Heir of Slytherin. I think he or she is still out there."

"That I believe as well. Hagrid may not have been a bright student, but he is good at heart. The heir is still out there somewhere, lying low for the time being. However, I am completely certain that you have something else you wish to say."

"Yes, actually, you see…I was wondering…but I am not certain…if…no, it is a silly question."

"If what?"

"If there are other heirs out there as well. There's an heir of Slytherin, so there must be…"

"You wish for your old master's heir to come reclaim you? That is highly surprising to me. I thought you would enjoy the peace, quiet, and freedom of the Hogwarts grounds."

"Can't you see Albus? I am a prisoner of this castle! I sit here alone every day with no chance of greatness in sight. Every day is the same. And the students mock me something awful."

"I do not know if they exist as well, but I feel that history has a tendency of repeating itself."

"So you think…"

"One can never be sure, but if they exist, they will come here eventually."

"How will we know?"

"When the time comes, you will know what to do."

**Sorry it took so long to update. I haven't had much time to work on this. The next chapter should be fun though. A lot more action then this one. Please let me know what you think by pressing the magical little review button.**


	5. Chapter 5: Battle of the Heads

**Chapter 5:**

**Battle of the Heads**

_Only a Year Afterward… For Once…_

The Sorting Hat could still feel the chills that ran through his fabric from last year's events. Every time he shut his eyes the dead eyes of Myrtle Sanders popped up in his brain. _Lord Godric would think I was a coward_, he said to himself, _but he cannot feel the unease that still courses through the school_. And uneasy it was.

Minerva McGonagall was Head Girl this year, which was fantastic. However, Tom Riddle was Head Boy. To all the teachers this looked like it was going to be a controlled year, but they knew little of Riddle's power abuse. Several children sat in detention every night in the office, yet Headmaster Dippet took no course of action. Every night Filius would come fetch the Sorting Hat from his stand saying, "Oh, that Riddle!" and murmur rather nasty things about the boy. It was sad to see Filius in such a state. Between Dumbledore and McGonagall there was little they could do to stop the wrath of Tom Riddle. Dippet seemed to have an irrational fear of Dumbledore, as would any man of power. Everyone knew that when Dippet ended his term as Headmaster that Albus Dumbledore would be the next man in line if he did not become Minister of Magic first.

Minerva had never really been on Dippet's good or bad side. She was a Gryffindor, however, so it made Dippet think he had a good enough reason not to trust her. Dippet had been a Ravenclaw, so he believed that every Gryffindor at heart was reckless and arrogant. The Sorting Hat was really beginning to get peeved by these inter-house relationships. The situation had not been so bad since the days of the founders. The way McGonagall and Riddle quarreled these days was awful. Hogwarts hardly ever had a moment of peace.

Yet the way that Riddle had acted recently had really begun to bother him. Whenever he came to talk to the Headmaster, he would always stare at him when the Headmaster was not looking. The Sorting Hat had no idea what this could mean, but he did not like this newfound attention. No matter how many fans he had in the world, this was just weird as some of the students would say. He had never liked Riddle from the moment he first saw him. The Sorting Hat had only hovered over his head at the sorting before shouting out Slytherin. And Riddle had certainly played the part. He was ever so cunning as to get information out of teachers that nobody had ever gotten before and snaking his way out of several detention threats in his first few years at school. His ambition greatly overpowered his cunningness to many people's surprise. Ever since he began his education at Hogwarts, Riddle had strived to become the best student Hogwarts had ever seen. He competed against the Ravenclaws for top marks and had, in fact, achieved higher marks than most of them on the O.W.L.S.

Except in Transfiguration. If there were any people in Hogwarts who stood in Tom Riddle's way, it had to be Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Dumbledore was the only teacher able to keep Riddle in line and Minerva was his equal. He stood for everything Slytherin; and she, everything Gryffindor. This was surely going to play out in a nasty way.

And so this play out of events began in an event that changed many people's lives and destinies forever. It was April now, about a year since the death of Myrtle Sanders, and the rain outside reflected the mood in Hogwarts. Headmaster Dippet was out on a call to the Ministry of Magic, and Riddle had been left in charge of the nightly evening detention in Dippet's office. He lounged in the absent Headmaster's chair looking haughty and out of place. The cheery looking chair did not seem to agree with Riddle's smugness. Terrified students sat all around the room scribbling down lines without even glancing up at Riddle. Pomona Sprout tried desperately not to tremble in her wooden chair, but her fear was given away by the sound of the wooden leg hitting the floor.

Looking at the clock, Riddle announced coolly, "Alright, you may all go now. And don't let me catch you wandering the halls."

Filius Flitwick raised his hand meekly and asked, "But this detention was supposed to end an hour ago. All the prefects and teachers are out on patrol now. We will be caught anyhow."

"That is your problem, not mine. This should teach you not to misbehave. Now scat." The first years did not need telling twice; they fled the office immediately. Pomona accidentally spilled her ink and in the confusion it spread onto a large portion of the office floor. Filius stayed behind and helped her charm the ink off of the floor.

However, Tom Riddle was too preoccupied with his journal to even notice these two. He finished writing in there just as Pomona crawled behind a desk to clean back there. Riddle swept over to the Sorting Hat who, despite his pride, began to quiver. Plucking the hat off the shelf, Tom turned to leave the office.

"Hey," said Filius, "where are you going with the Sorting Hat?" Riddle turned to see Filius and Pomona still in the office. He cursed under his breath and then resumed his noble air.

"Headmaster Dippet told me to take the hat down to the house elves. It needed some repairs for next year and it's better to do the job now then later." The Sorting Hat tried to speak out against this because of his fear mending, but Riddle placed his hand over the Sorting Hat's mouth.

_Oh, bugger_, he thought. _He's kidnapping me! I don't want to go to the kitchens! Anywhere else, please!_ Thank goodness Pomona did not seemed satisfied with this reason.

"I think the Sorting Hat looks fine. He hardly moves all day, so it cannot be that bad. Why would we need to take him down to the kitchens if we are wizards? We can do magic…"

"Quiet! Ten points from Hufflepuff and another detention for you Sprout!" Riddle spat. He sped out of the room as tears began to form in Pomona's eyes. The Sorting Hat felt wind whipping his face as Riddle ran down many secret passageways until the he lost all sense of direction. They reemerged in the Grand Stairwell, which was void of any occupants. This could not be good at all. What could Riddle possibly want? Tom Riddle raised the Sorting Hat and placed him on his head.

The Sorting Hat felt as if waves of terrible pain were racing through his fabric. He wanted to unwind and become young thread again in some old which's hat store. There was something wrong with this boy. He was not…whole. _Tell me where the founders hid their items_, Riddle's voice boomed in his brain. _Or better yet, if you have them, just give them over_. The Sorting Hat had no notion of why Riddle was asking this.

_I have no idea what ever happened to their…stuff, but if I did have it I would not give it to you_. The Sorting Hat felt good telling Riddle off brain to brain. _You are a foul, cruel lump of mangled curses, and I will not stand being treated this way. I demand that you unhand me this…_

But then the Sorting Hat saw something in Riddle's brain that he had not seen before, even during his sorting. Something that was so obvious that no one would have guessed on fear of being wrong. It was something etched in Riddle's face that the Sorting Hat had last seen centuries ago, as a certain snaky person left the halls of Hogwarts forever. Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin.

_Never_, the Sorting Hat hissed through tightened fibers.

_Fine then_, was all that Riddle could say to that. _You will do just fine_. The Sorting Hat felt himself being pulled off of Riddle's head causing him to go numb. Tom Riddle raised his wand and began to murmur an unfamiliar incantation.

"Riddle!" someone shouted. Tom turned, so the Sorting Hat could now see Minerva McGonagall storming down the hallway closely followed by Flitwick and Sprout. "What are you doing? The Sorting Hat belongs in the Headmaster's office."

"Well, what are these students doing out of bed. I told them to go back to their Common rooms once detention was over."

"Which you let out an hour late. The school doesn't belong to you." A faint hissing came from the ceiling. The Sorting Hat began mumbling to get Minerva's attention. Everyone looked up. A large snake was dangling from the arch above them. He looked up at the snake and then Riddle, and Minerva understood. A dark look came across her face. "You…" she snarled trying to hold herself back. Pomona and Filius looked quite startled at Minerva's quick change of attitude.

"On the contrary, Minerva, I believe it does. I'm willing to seek power and take it from those who don't deserve it." He waved his wand quickly and Minerva and Filius dived out of the way. Pomona was not so lucky and got hit by the spell. She flew backwards in the air and over the railing.

"Pomona!" Filius squeaked and ran to look over the banister. Pomona was holding on with all her might but her fingers were beginning to slip. Filius tried desperately to pull her back up but then she fell with a scream. Minerva looked outraged. She leaped back onto her feet and began to duel Tom furiously.

"You are a monster! You'll kill us all to feed your overgrown ambition and I've had enough of it!" she shouted over the noise of their duel. One spell hit the arch sending the snake flying through the air. The Sorting Hat coughed as the dust filled the landing. He could see a couple shadows moving fast towards them. One was short and very rotund and the other was tall and lean. The Sorting Hat then felt wind whipping his face once more as Riddle ran off with him. The snake slithered in his wake and Minerva sprinted after them shouting, "COWARD! COWARD!" They rounded the bend, curses flying everywhere, and Riddle ran into an abandoned classroom and hid waiting to strike. Minerva ran into the room and Riddle made the door slam shut behind her with a flick of his wand. "I know you're in here, Riddle," she seethed through clenched teeth. "There's no point hiding anymore." The Sorting Hat wanted to shout out because the snake began to unwind itself from its hiding place of the doorframe. It was just about to take the fatal bite when the door burst open revealing a rather furious Dumbledore.

"That was a close one," the Sorting Hat muttered as the snake reeled away. Dumbledore gave one glance at the statue Riddle was hiding behind and it turned into sand. Riddle dropped the Sorting Hat, which landed with a loud plump on the ground. With a swish of his wand, Riddle made the sand into a tornado tearing towards Dumbledore who merely raised his wand at a rug on the floor. It floated up and enveloped the dust and when it opened back up, it was empty. Soon, desks were charging, books erupting from bookcases, lakes sprouting out of floorboards, and giant magic animals were gallivanting across the room. Minerva was sending spells at the snake that appeared to have magic resistant scales. She had tried throwing a dictionary at it, but nothing seemed to work. Riddle sent a spell that deflected off a desk leg, landing in a flask on the wall. The spell changed color and hit the snake causing it to grow to a height of fifteen feet. Riddle began to laugh his head off as he dodged one of Dumbledore's spells. To the Sorting Hat's surprise, he saw Dumbledore walk over to him and felt Albus's hand wrap around his brim. He began to soar through the air toward Minerva as Dumbledore let go.

_Merlin's beard! What is he doing? _the Sorting Hat thought as he Minerva caught him. She looked bewildered that Dumbledore should throw her the Sorting Hat. What good would this hat do her? She placed the Sorting Hat on her head trusting Dumbledore that he knew what he was doing.

_Are you supposed to help me somehow? _Minerva asked dodging the beastlike snake. _Is there some sort of magic you can do that would help me beat a giant snake, because if there is that would be really helpful now._ The Sorting Hat suddenly thought of something he had not thought about for years…

_A Long Time Before This Scene But Not As Long Ago As the Beginning of Chapter One…_

Lord Godric had just returned from a journey to his home; the first journey he had ever taken without the Sorting Hat. This rather bothered the Sorting Hat because his master had never ever wanted to be alone before. Years of administering had really hardened him up: he was still jolly but not so carefree. He tried to ignore this and instead began to nag his master.

"My wordeth! Where haveth you been! I've seen no hide nor haireth of you lately. You missed this yeareth's sorting! It tis one of the mosteth grand occasions and you missedeth it!" he huffed pivoting on the desk.

"I am sorryeth my good hat," he said hanging his red cloak on a hook on the wall. He seemed tired and troubled, an unusual expression for him. "Things do not faireth well outside these greateth walls. Lancelot taketh land like a fireth in hay. And that tis not all, no. They sayeth that he might be workingeth for someone else."

"Who my good Lord? Who is this fiendeth that they speak of?" he asked.

"They say the knight Mordred of the good Kingeth Arthur has been leadingeth him all the timeth. It twas he that corruptedeth," he stopped for a moment and then continued as if it caused him pain, "Morgan." The Sorting Hat was shocked that no one had found this out sooner. All four of the now hailed 'Founders' had been most upset when they discovered their young friend had left the school before they arrived, and even more upset when they realized that the Great Queen Maeve's (may she rest in peace) death had not been an accident or natural at all: Morgan had killed her.

"Is Salazar soureth about this still?" the Sorting Hat asked.

"I knoweth not. He hardly evereth comes out of the dungeoneth. Helga says he is even more bittereth and paleth. She is still upseteth about Salazar blaming this whole ordealeth on us. It brings her to tearseth."

"What sayeth Lady Rowena about thiseth?"

"I knoweth not. We shareth now only our mindseth not our heartseth."

"But you were so fondeth of her for so long!"

"Twas only a fleeting momenteth."

"Where lieth your heart now?"

"In my chesteth not my eyes which tricketh the young."

"You avoid answeringeth my first question!"

"I was away and that is alleth you need to know. There was troubleth in the country side and they pleaded for my presenceth." Lord Godric sat down warily in his chair. The Sorting Hat turned away from him too angry and confused for words to express. Lord Godric never kept secrets from him. It was against the laws of nature for he could see into the mind of whoever wore him on their head and instantly he'd know everything. Except for this time, he didn't see anything. It bothered him more than it frustrated him. "Sorting Hat," he asked looking up, "dost thou trusteth me?"

He turned around. "Of course, my lord," he responded, "I trusteth thou more than anyone I knoweth."

"Then, willest thou taketh care of this?" he said pulling out his sword. The Sorting Hat's eyes widened. Was Lord Godric really doing what he thought he was doing?

"My lord," he answered slightly panicked, "I wouldst rathereth keep my brain thaketh thou very much."

"If thoust trusteth me thoust will be fineth," Lord Godric responded. The Sorting Hat closed his eyes tight as the sword plunged toward him. He didn't feel anything. Opening his eyes, the Sorting Hat saw that Lord Godric no longer held the sword. "Thoust will keep it for me and I will calleth it when I am in needeth. Remembereth that welleth, my hat."

**OoO**

_Ask for help_! The Sorting Hat told Minerva.

_I already have_! Minerva exclaimed.

_Well then look out_. Minerva took the Hat off her head and the sword from years ago fell out of him: the sword of Godric Gryffindor. She stood there stunned for a moment until the snake lunged again. Snapping out of her awed reverie Minerva picked up the sword and began swinging at the serpent.

Riddle was loosing ground against Dumbledore and he knew it. There was a frightened look in his eyes as he tried to figure a way out of this. He had tried every spell he knew against him and Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what spell Riddle would try next. The Sorting Hat turned at a shrieking noise behind him and saw the snake now had the sword in the back of its neck. Falling over, the serpent bit Minerva in the leg. She let out a small scream but fell over, the poison taking control of her. Filius burst into the room with Slughorn and Fawkes the Phoenix. Fawkes glided over to Minerva and began to work his healing magic.

Riddle fell over at a mere tripping jinx Dumbledore sent his way in all the confusion. Tom Riddle suddenly looked very disoriented. "Where…where am I?" His eyes seemed to clear with no trace of anger left.

"What is going on here?" asked a bewildered Slughorn. "Why in Merlin's-Most-Hideous-Dress shoes where you dueling a student, Dumbledore?"

"A student who I feared turned to the worst but apparently was just possessed. Go see if there are any suspicious people in the castle, Horace," Dumbledore explained. Dumbledore and Slughorn left the room followed by Filius who gave Riddle a doubtful look. The matron of the hospital wing bustled into the room and took the healed Minerva and the confused Tom to the Hospital Wing. Just as the Sorting Hat was about to shout after Dumbledore to come back here and return him to the office he heard a movement outside.

"Weak," said a man dressed in black from head to foot outside on the windowsill. "He's not the one. Riddle's just a foolish schoolboy with too much ambition. I'll have to wait." With that the man jumped off the ledge and flew out of the Grounds disappearing in the air without a sound. The Sorting Hat sat there trembling; he had heard that voice too many times before.

"Professor! Professor Dumbledore!" he screamed.

**Hehe. Cliffhanger! You'll just have to guess who that is. By the way, Riddle really was possessed in this chapter. He's too sneaky to try a stunt like stealing the Sorting Hat out in the open all on his own will. He really did everything else on his own (aka, opening Chamber of Secrets, killing Myrtle). He's bad but he didn't mean to cause this incident so he gets let off (tear, tear). Try and guess who that man is and also this chapter helps a lot with the background for my co-authored story _Ginny Weasley and the Founder's Return_. Check it out. By the way, sorry it took sooooo long to update. Next chapter will be funny; I promise, though I hope you enjoyed the return of the 'eths'. Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6: A New Headmaster

**Yay! School is out, finally. So now I have more time to update. Here is a funny one that is more of a transition then an important plot point. Well, here we go.**

**Chapter Six:**

**A New Headmaster**

The Sorting Hat did not see the man at the window again, nor did he wish to see him: he would never dare to say the name. "What would Mordred want with Riddle," he mused one day. He would probably never know for Riddle had been gone from the school for some time. Life went back to the normal drone of sitting on the shelf, which now seemed rather tedious after so much excitement for just two years. One thing had resulted from the whole incident: Armando Dippet had retired out of embarrassment for the events of those two years. His popularity had really never picked up after Myrtle dying and Riddle being possessed. He had been a fine Headmaster, but nobody really wanted him there anymore.

Without Dippet there that afternoon (for he had just left this morning), everything was more quiet then usual. Except for the mutterings of the portraits. Today they had stayed awake and seemed more alive then ever before. "Rupert, good fellow," he inquired to the alert neighboring portrait, "what on earth has got you all talking today?"

"We are trying to figure out who the Ministry has appointed to replace Headmaster Dippet. He does not have a portrait yet, since he's not dead, so we have no one to ask. Phineas Nigellus has been running in and out to his portrait in the Black family home but there is no news so far," reported Rupert Avencroft.

"It's probably some foolish old duffer anyhow. Why should you care? He will not be any different from the rest," grumbled the Sorting Hat. The lack of fresh air appeared to finally be having a profound impact on him. That and a rather strong distaste for the Ministry, but who could blame him: they were the cause of strife for many wizarding families. The Ministry always hid behind a mask of being on all wizards' sides while constantly and invisibly stabbing everyone in the back. It was a pyramid of power that wizards fought to get to the top of. They had secrets they would keep from everyone who they deemed a threat. How could such a small movement have become such a power that destroyed so many of the wizarding world's finest young wizards and witches?

"But they say they might appoint…"

"Not another word, Rupert. I do not wish to speak of your 'glorious ministry and how it is all going to change.' They still keep me sour."

"You are as stubborn as Merlin's eagle. The Ministry…"

"That's enough, Rupert. Let him be sour if he wishes," interrupted Phineas Nigellus. The Sorting Hat reminded himself that he would have to thank Phineas later. "There is no news so far of an appointment. We will all just have to wait and accept whoever it is." Several portraits grumbled at this and turned their attention to the silent door holding their breath. The Sorting Hat did not care and instead fell into a troubled sleep.

_A Long Time Ago Just a Bit After the Sorting Hat said Nasty Words About Godric Gryffindor…_

The Sorting Hat sat still on the shelf with stormy thoughts about what his Master Godric had said about leaving. Lord Godric could not leave, the wizarding world needed him and further more he left his sword with him. How could he possibly survive without his sword? Lord Godric without his sword would be like a dragon without fire or Hogwarts with no dungeons for Slytherin House. The Sorting Hat's attention was then pulled away by a creak emitted from the door. A little socked foot came in through the crack followed by a little girl who must have been a first year. Yes, Juliana Jensen was her name, a resident of Hufflepuff House. She was rather shy but extremely loyal to the friends she had. Ah, the perks of being a mind reading hat: you could always see a person's character before you knew them.

Tonight she seemed to be quaking like a rabbit considering she had just broken into the Head office. He couldn't blame her for that because it was extremely brave to even try let alone actually get in. "Juliana," he said smiling trying to calm the child's fears, "I hath not seeneth thou for a whileth. What bringseth thou hereth?"

Juliana stood swaying at the bottom of the shelf. He could now see that there were tears streaking down her face. He was really going to have to start telling off the Slytherins for this. It was ridiculous how many crying first years had come to him this year. "I cometh bringing the feareth running through Hogwartseth. I heardeth from an old maneth who came to Hogwartseth tonight that the Headmasterseth and Headmistresseseth will not be returning: he saideth they were…"

_Tragically in the Future in a Very, Very Familiar Dorm by Now…_

"Dead!" shrieked a little puppet that appeared to have been made out of one of Peter's small, old, holey socks. There were pieces of yarn falling off of the 'head' onto a crowd of first years watching the show. McGonagall had not been kind to them when giving detention. James, Remus, and Peter were beet red from the shame of performing their show live for all of Gryffindor House one year at a time: this was only their first performance. Then they would have to repeat the process for the other three houses, which would be rather painful. Sirius, however, was having the time of his life.

"Um, Sirius," whispered James, "you're supposed to be sad and crying."

"Oh, okay," hissed Sirius. "I heard they were all dead having been viciously murdered by Robin Hood and his Merry Men in the middle of the Black Forest. Salazar Slytherin's remains are in my knap sack if you want them. We want to burn them with Regulus, I mean, Romulus. Dirty villain for killing his brother like that: it will teach them." The sock puppet opened a little bag and began tossing shreds of cloth all over the room.

The first years were in hysterics. Some of them hid under Remus' bed sobbing while others pulled out tomatoes and began chucking them at the puppet stage.

"See what you've done, Padfoot. You've made them all cry. Ouch, and their starting to throw watermelons!" Remus said picking up a piece of the melon that had smashed on his head. Peter snatched it and began eating it along with his puppet because he had given the new Slytherin pasta eyes. "You shouldn't have changed the lines!"

"But it's the truth! I swear it!"

"No Sirius, let's just read from this history book."

"But it doesn't tell the truth!"

"Well then take this seriously."

"Okay." One of the melons caused the puppet stage to tumbled over onto the Marauders.

"Thanks, Sirius, thanks," groaned James.

_Back to Juliana and the Sorting Hat in the Dark Office…_

"Dead," she whimpered quietly. The Sorting Hat felt every fiber in his being go ice cold.

"Dead? They cannoteth be dead. I just saweth them yesterday eveningeth. Well, besideseth Lord Salazar." This could not be true. It was completely ridiculous. Lord Godric, Lady Rowena, Lady Hufflepuff, and… okay, Lord Salazar were far to strong to all be dead.

"But they areth. In a clearingeth not far from your Lord's hometh came the army of the Darketh Oneseth. They beganeth to fight when the followers of the Ministering of Magiceth came upon themeth in numbers unimaginableth. Lady Rowena felleth first, followed by Morgan le Fay. Lord Salazar felleth trying to help Lady Helga with Morgan le Fay. Lady Helga soon felleth trying to pull Lord Godric from the frayeth. He then fell lasteth at the river taking down the Dark Sorcerer Lancelot with his daggereth. The resteth of the Ministering of Magiceth shot down the Darketh Mordred in the center of the fieldeth. Anyone elseth perished: followers from botheth sides."

"All of themeth? By a magical movementeth? Who do they thinketh they areth?"

"The governmenteth," sighed Juliana pulling out a scroll with a trembling hand. When the Sorting Hat read it he could feel his hope wane to nothing. The Ministering of Magiceth was now the Ministry of Magic and they now owned the school. "I was ableth to obtain these tokenseth from the Gryffindor Houseth. They rode out all nighteth to find them." Juliana pulled out a locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin, a pair of broken spectacles of Rowena Ravenclaw, a horn that belonged the Helga Hufflepuff (the Sorting Hat looked over to her tea set sadly sitting forgotten in the corner forsaken by its mistress), Lord Godric's red cloak (his heart turned to stone after seeing this), and a small glowing orb. He now without a doubt that they were indeed all dead, and that he was completely alone. "I am sorryeth," Juliana cried. Her tears overtook her and she left the room weeping.

The next few months passed in a numb feeling as rules and laws were made, the orb that apparently belonged to Morgan le Fay was taken to the new government building, and the Founders were all forgotten with the promise of new life for the wizarding community. Any relations or people loyal to the Founders still 'disappeared' never to be seen again even down to the last child. The Sorting Hat watched bitterly as the world changed allowing less room for old things and more for greedy wizards. He knew that forevermore he would never ever be able to forgive this new Ministry of Magic.

_Back to the Present Where the Sorting Hat Was Taking a Nap…_

The Sorting Hat woke with a start as the door creaked open. He rolled his eyes and was about to go back to sleep when Horace Slughorn walked in with a red decrepit looking phoenix. He placed it on the wooden stand that Dippet's Dwarf Owl used to stand on and left the room. Portraits muttered darkly around him.

"Horace Slughorn," spat Rupert Avencroft. "Even though he may be a fine Potion's Master does not mean he will make a good Headmaster." The Sorting Hat couldn't help but to agree. He should not be prejudiced but Horace Slughorn was not Headmaster material.

"The same a usual," he complained in an 'I told you so' kind of tone. He now turned his attention to the old phoenix that gripped the stand in warty feet. "Well that thing looks like it should lay an egg and go die somewhere like other phoenixes do. It looks plain miserable."

With that, the phoenix burst into flame becoming ashes on the floor. However, Horace Slughorn had not thought about the stand he had placed the bird on before putting him there: it was wood. Wood meant fire and obviously the stand caught on fire. "That's just lovely," the Sorting Hat moaned. Yet the fire did not seem to want to stop there because there was carpeting on the floor. "Oh great, carpeting. Maybe Dippet should have thought of all the hazards to carpet before buying such an expensive one."

He thought the fire should have been satisfied at that point, but it wasn't. A portrait of a rather boil-covered old Headmistress burst into flame with her giving a banshee-like scream before melting away. At this point, all the other portraits began to flee, Phineas Nigellus being the most successful since he had another portrait in another house. It was quiet except for the crackling of flames crawling up the furniture.

And then the Sorting Hat realized a terrible thought: sure he was immortal to time but Lord Godric had forgotten that he was flammable. "Help!" he shouted out to nobody as fire climbed his shelf. "I need help, the fire is trying to kill me!"

He began gathering all the objects on top that could shield him at the time. All the nonflammable objects fell into the flames as he tried to squeeze behind them. "I really need to lose some weight," he thought to himself. Then he saw Lady Helga's horn, the rusty metal that once was Lady Rowena's spectacles, and Lord Godric's cloak at the other end of the shelf. He had to rescue them or they would be lost forever.

He scooted to the other end of the shelf and hopped on top of the items. If he were going to go down he would die a hero's death. "In the name of Merlin's scraggily beard will someone please help me?" Yet no one came.

He could see the flames at the edge of the shelf. "Goodbye cruel world," he called. Trying one more tactic, he began blowing at the flames like one would blow out candles of a birthday cake, but the flames just grew bigger. He closed his eyes knowing he'd see Lord Godric again soon.

But then the door burst open and there was water everywhere. The Sorting Hat was completely drenched and very irritable. He looked up at the spell caster and saw Albus Dumbledore tucking his wand away examining the damage in the room.

"Merlin's pants!" sputtered the Sorting Hat. "What took you so long? I could have died and then what would you have done? Students couldn't be sorted and the school system would be in chaos."

"I am terribly sorry," responded Albus as he repaired most of the items in the room. The portraits began to return to their spots including the burnt witch to a newly conjured canvas. "I do believe I warned Horace that it was Fawkes' burning day. It appears he was too preoccupied with not getting burned and catching his breath. Will you place that telescope over there, Horace. And do mind the stairs. I suppose we will have to put an advertisement out for the Transfiguration post."

The Sorting Hat was stunned. "You are the new Headmaster?" he asked in amazement. He would have thought at this point that people would want him as Minister of Magic instead. Some of the other Ministry officials would not have agreed: they didn't seem to want him in power anywhere.

"Yes I am. Who were you expecting? King Arthur?" he smiled as he interrogated a familiar twinkle in his eye. There was something about Albus Dumbledore that had always reminded him of someone.

"Well…no, I just…" stuttered the Sorting Hat. He resumed his indignant nature. "Well done, and you better do a better job then the rest of them." All the portraits erupted with complaints but the Sorting hat didn't pay them any mind.

"We'll see. Oh bother, there he goes," he said to Fawkes the baby phoenix as they heard Slughorn fall down the stairs. Dumbledore pulled a metal stand out of a box and placed Fawkes in the tray until he had enough strength to fly to the bar. "Now I must get some work done, so please don't interrupt me. I have several interviews to conduct and I need to move the portraits around."

"Why is that?" asked the Sorting Hat.

"Old Headmaster Dippet died in his sleep last night. Surely someone told you?"

"No," said the Sorting hat. "No they didn't."

"Well, it's a shame. They said it was the killing curse. I cannot imagine who it could be…" Dumbledore trailed off reading a resume. The Sorting Hat could not help think a boy who was now a man who had the word murder etched in his face. A certain Tom Riddle…

**Well, that was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoyed the return of the sock puppets. Speaking of our sock puppet puppeteers, guess what time frame is next? The Marauders! Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Scavenger Hunt

**Chapter Seven:**

**Scavenger Hunt**

Life had become rather interesting with Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster. Not only had he turned down Riddle for a job, but also Riddle had become a power hungry fiend trying to destroy wizarding England. And now they were in the middle of a war. Sure, life didn't seem very different inside the castle yet right outside the Sorting Hat could tell that this was a war that could rival the wars of old.

Some of the students seemed to be oblivious to this fact, however. The crowd of first years that had come into the school this year was just trying to have fun. They pulled silly pranks in the hallway and caused chaos in class. But the teachers were quiet this year no matter what chaos they caused: it helped keep the students from knowing what danger they could be in. For this year Albus Dumbledore had done the unthinkable; he had admitted a werewolf to school. Nothing about the boy suggested anything strange about him except maybe his raggedy appearance and monthly 'trips home to sick relatives.' The Sorting Hat thought that Remus Lupin was a perfectly nice trustworthy boy. Horace Slughorn still thought the boy was very suspicious, maybe even a Death Eater, but the staff was willing to accept him. The Sorting Hat didn't find a werewolf at school was a problem at all.

Yet there was still the issue of Sirius Black, a boy he had sorted into Gryffindor. Had the Sorting Hat known what kind of trouble Mrs. Black would cause him by sorting her son into Gryffindor he would have sorted the boy into Slytherin. She had come to Hogwarts the day after the sorting to complain to him and reprimand her son for being sorted into Gryffindor. People these days were so picky.

"You have dishonored the House of Black!" she shrieked to her son. "And you," she screamed turning to the Sorting Hat, "are the cause of all this!"

"Me, my good lady," he retorted, "I only do my job and clearly that boy is not Slytherin material." He turned to where Sirius sat on the floor rubbing his arm for his mother had used it to drag him to the Headmaster's office so tightly that her nails had left puncture marks.

"I WILL NOT HAVE MY FAMILY ASHAMED AGAIN!!" Mrs. Black screamed picking up a lit candle in the room.

"Oh not again," moaned the Sorting Hat. However the flame was now a little too close for his liking. "I say, my good lady, move that flame away from me at once. Hey!"

He ducked to avoid the candle but then sighed in relief as he heard someone say, "Good morning, Walburga. Is something the matter?" Albus Dumbledore walked over to where Sirius sat on the floor and helped him up. Sirius did not say anything and just turned to look at some of the objects floating around the room.

"Yes, Headmaster," spat Mrs. Black lowering the candle, "that _thing_ sorted my son, the eldest child of the House of Black, into _Gryffindor _with Mudbloods and Blood traitors. If it had been Ravenclaw I would consent, but Gryffindor?! It's an outrage that that rag sorted my son into a house of such filth. I demand that he be moved to Slytherin House at once."

The Sorting Hat was about to retort to the nasty women about calling him a rag and his old master's house filth but Dumbledore held up a hand to restrain him and to silence Mrs. Black. "Mrs. Black, as you should well know Hogwarts is not about separating people into so-called statuses, but about unification and education. There is nothing to be said when the Sorting Hat makes his decision: it is final. He has done so almost every year since Hogwarts began, and his judgment is to be trusted. I am certain your son shall bring great honor to your family's name through Gryffindor House. Just give it a bit of time and you will find that this House suites your son best. Now, Walburga, I suggest we let Sirius get to class because I know Professor McGonagall would not be happy to have a student from her house late to her class on the first day." Sirius looked over toward them and left without another word. Mrs. Black turned to leave but then looked back to where Dumbledore sat behind his desk.

"Know this, Dumbledore," she sneered, "I will not let my other son fall into your tricks. He will be known as being the greatest of the House of Black, greater then you will ever be."

"Perhaps," mused the Headmaster, "Perhaps not. Good day, Walburga." Mrs. Black stormed out of the room.

"Well, she's a charming lady, isn't she," stated the Sorting Hat sardonically.

"Just very prejudiced, I'm afraid," replied Albus Dumbledore. "She would not be too fond of Mr. Lupin unfortunately." That, the Sorting Hat could only wonder how Remus Lupin would fair in a dorm with a haughty pureblood, the son of one of the greatest blood traitor families, and a dimwit.

"I counted the new students last night, there were only thirty-nine. Is there a vacancy this year?" asked the Sorting Hat.

"No, one of the new students will be arriving this evening around nine o'clock. I'm afraid your work for this year is not complete yet; you'll have to sort him once he arrives. He was unable to arrive on time. There was a family issue," answered Dumbledore.

"Anything to deal with our favorite Mr. Riddle?" asked the Sorting Hat sarcastically.

"No," chuckled Dumbledore reading over a letter from the Ministry of Magic, "Not at all."

OoO

All was quiet in the first year boy's dorm in Gryffindor Tower. Well almost, a little pudgy boy named Peter Pettigrew sat on the floor scarfing down candy his parents had sent him upon the news that he had been sorted into Gryffindor.

The other three boys sat on their beds two with black hair glaring at each other across the room. Sirius Black stared unblinkingly at what he believed to be his archrival: James Potter. The Potters and the Blacks had never gotten along and considering his mother was already angry with him for being in Gryffindor he wasn't going to be at all friendly with James Potter. Of course, a first year Slytherin named Severus Snape was close to taking James' title in Sirius' book: it was the only thing they had agreed on since they met on the train.

James ruffled his hair trying to think about the best way to stop this silence: it was unnerving. He didn't want to talk to Sirius because he would just act plain rude. The kid on the floor was too interested in his candy to notice anything else and a sandy haired boy who looked like he had run into a hippogriff along the way was too busy reading a book to notice anyone. Remus Lupin puzzled James; Remus was very polite but seemed to try to avoid any type of attention. He sat at the back of the class and didn't say anything all day. Something had to be done for the sake of James' sanity.

"Hey, guys," said James standing on his bed. The other three boys looked up, which was a good start. "I was thinking, since it's our first full day at school that we should have a look around." Sirius rolled his eyes at the thought of just running around the school like idiots trying to find their way around. "Only we won't just walk around, it will be too slow…does anybody like games?"

"Ooh! Ooh! I love games!" exclaimed Peter bobbing up and down in place.

"Well, good, Pettigrew. We're going on a Scavenger Hunt," declared James. Peter cheered waving his candy bar in the air.

"Scavenger Hunts are for sissies," retorted Sirius looking away from the other three. He wanted to join, but if his cousins caught him playing he wouldn't be so lucky as this morning.

"Oh, lighten up, Black," replied James. "We're only eleven. We are still allowed to act like sissies."

"You're going to need a list," interrupted Remus. James looked over at him amazed that Remus Lupin could speak.

"Well then will you make us a list, Lupin?" asked James jumping off his bed and walking over to where Remus sat.

"Please, will you make one? Please!" begged Peter scuttling over.

Remus closed his book and placed it on his bed. "Alright," he sighed pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Yay!" shouted Peter jumping to his feet. Remus was busy scribbling down the list as the other three put on shoes. James shoved something into his pocket that looked like a silk bed sheet to Sirius. If Potter honestly thought that he could disguise himself as laundry when they were out then he was a lot dumber then Sirius thought.

"Here," said Remus passing James the piece of parchment. James looked at the list and added a few more interesting items:

Oldest Statue in the School

_Tallest Tower in the School_

_Tea Leaves_

_Portrait leading to Gryffindor Common Room_

_Something Powerfully Magical_

_An Old Magical Object_

**_Pebble from the lake_**

_**Toothpick from Transfiguration**_

_**One of Filch's Keys**_

_**Owl Feather**_

"You guys can't go outside," protested Remus. James looked over at him.

"Well we can too. Everyone has to play including you, Lupin," proclaimed James. Remus opened his mouth to return the argument but Sirius and Peter were already at the door. Sirius had a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Ready, set, go!" Sirius shouted. James, Sirius, and Peter dragged Remus out of the dorm, down the stairs and out the portrait hole.

"Found it," stated James and Sirius at the same time. Remus sighed and checked it off.

"We'll never be able to finish this before curfew," Remus said to the others.

"Not if we each find a couple of the items and then met back up somewhere," James countered.

"I'll get an owl feather…and tea leaves," whispered Peter.

"Wimp," muttered Sirius.

"I'll get the pebble from the lake and a toothpick from McGonagall's room," responded James.

"Hey! How come he gets to do all the cool stuff? I could get both those things faster then he could," complained Sirius.

"He called them first," replied Remus. James stuck his tongue out at Sirius. "I'll find the oldest statue and tallest tower."

"You probably already know what it is," snapped Sirius. Remus just shrugged with a smile. "Fine, I'll find something powerfully magical and an old magical object. All of us should meet up at Filch's office." All four nodded and sped off in different directions.

OoO

The Sorting Hat woke up from a nice long nap on the shelf. The incident with Walburga Black had made him extremely tired. However, he felt as if he had had a dream that he just couldn't recall. It was a good dream, he remembered that much.

The door to the office opened and the Sorting Hat opened his mouth to complain to Professor Dumbledore, who had left fifteen minutes ago, about some unimportant thing (it was a habit of his) but stopped upon seeing who it was.

Sirius Black crept into the room but stood up relieved when seeing Professor Dumbledore was not present. He walked around the room apparently looking for something: perhaps he had dropped something earlier this morning. "Good evening, Mr. Black," said the Sorting Hat after clearing his throat. Something in the boy's eyes did not make the Sorting Hat feel very good about what was to come.

Sirius reached up and grabbed the Sorting Hat by the brim muttering, "_An old magical object_."

"Let me go," demanded the Sorting Hat trying to wriggle out of Sirius' grasp but to no avail. Sirius turned about the room making the Sorting Hat feel seasick. He was about to reach up and try to catch one of the silver objects whirring around the room when Fawkes the Phoenix burst into flames.

"Cool," murmured Sirius in awe. He waited until Fawkes popped out of the ashes as a little baby bird and then snatched him up. Sirius stuffed the Sorting Hat and Fawkes into a little sack and ran out of the office.

The ride was bumpy just like when Lord Godric used to go out chasing giants away from Muggle villages so that no one would get flattened. It was thrilling but the Sorting Hat was terrified for his life. Fawkes squawked as they bounced along the way. "A bit bumpy, isn't it?" questioned the Sorting Hat when he was thrown against the side of the sack closest to Fawkes.

"_Yes, quite. Have we met properly before?_" chirped Fawkes ruffling his feathers trying to fly.

"No, no we haven't," stated the Sorting Hat though he had the hankering that they had met somewhere. But then they abruptly stopped and both were thrown backwards inside. There were people outside the sack whispering.

"Okay, you're here Lupin and so is Pettigrew, but where's Potter?" interrogated Sirius Black. There was a rustle outside and several gasps.

"James, how'd you do that? Can you teach me?" squeaked Peter Pettigrew.

"Where'd you get one of those? They're supposed to be extremely rare," said Remus Lupin.

"No bloody way," grumbled Sirius Black. "Potter has an invisibility cloak and I don't." The Sorting Hat knew that the school was now in big trouble. He remembered a boy by the last name Perevell who had a cloak like that when he returned for seventh year, and he caused the Founders a lot of trouble. He didn't want to imagine what kind of dilemmas James Potter could cause with one of those.

"No time to talk," responded James. "Filch is coming this way. We're going to have to act fast."

"Ickle-firsties out of bed," cackled a voice from above. The Sorting Hat could tell that Peeves would enjoy himself. The Sorting Hat just hoped that Filch wouldn't think that he was the reason for the students being out of bed out of hours.

"Go away Peeves or I'll set my mother after you. You wouldn't want that happening, now would you?" retorted Sirius slyly. It seemed that Peeves thought this was a good enough reason to leave them alone.

"What brings the firsties here tonight?" asked Peeves quietly.

"Trying to steal Filch's keys. Want to help?" interrogated James. Remus seemed to be trying to tell James not to say what they were doing but James Potter had a very big mouth.

"Causing Filch trouble; I love it," drawled Peeves. Peeves zoomed off down the corridor and pretty soon Peeves was singing the Hogwarts theme song inside a suit of armor very loudly filling in a couple spots with words not appropriate to type.

"PEEVES!" hollered Filch and the Sorting Hat could hear Filch storming down the hall to the singing knight. There was a clash of metal and the Sorting Hat knew that Peeves was making the knight perform lyrical ballet.

"Now," hissed James. They snuck into Filch's office and in a matter of a few minutes the keys were inside the bag jingling silently thanks to Remus. All four boys were under James' invisibility cloak creeping up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

Once inside their dorm Peter squealed, "That was amazing! You guys were so sneaky and brave. I wish that I were that brave. I'm not even sure why I was sorted into this house."

"It was completely mental. We almost got caught! Do you know how much trouble we could've gotten into?" Remus ranted. The Sorting Hat did not care how much trouble they would've gotten into: he just wanted out of the bag.

"Well, we didn't," pointed out James. "So we're okay. Let's see what we all got."

"Ooh! I've got an owl feather from the Great Hall and tea leaves from the kitchen," stated Peter proudly.

"The point was to go all the way up to the divination classroom and the Owlery. Merlin's beard someone needs a brain transplant," groused Sirius placing his sack on one of the beds with a large thump. The Sorting Hat got hit in the face with Filch's keys.

"Ugh," he moaned. Fawkes screeched in complaint.

"Did that bag just talk?" asked Remus.

"Nah," replied Sirius sitting halfway on the bag squishing the Sorting Hat.

"Alright, the Astronomy Tower is the tallest tower so I suggest not to take off on a broom from there during a flying lesson. The gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office is the oldest statue."

"But, Lupin, that's not a statue. It's a gargoyle," countered James.

"A gargoyle is a type of statue," replied Remus in a rather educating type of tone.

"Gosh, you should be a teacher someday, Lupin," declared Sirius.

"Yeah, sure," responded Remus. If those boys knew what Lupin was, thought the Sorting Hat, they'd probably change their minds.

"Here's the pebble from the lake," proclaimed James throwing it on top of the sack narrowly missing Fawkes, "and the tooth pick from McGonagall's room, fresh from the box." Peter applauded and the Sorting Hat could feel James jump up onto the bed on the other side of the sack and take a bow.

"Oh yeah, so great. Not to mention that you had an invisibility cloak so it made this whole thing easier for you then everyone else," snapped Sirius shifting his weight on the sack crushing the Sorting Hat's face. "I, on the other hand, snuck into a highly dangerous territory." Peter Pettigrew gasped in awe. "I've got an old magical object," he said whipping out the Sorting Hat.

"Bloody hell," stated James looking at the Sorting Hat. "Where'd you find that?"

"Questions and protests later," answered Sirius holding up his free hand to silence Remus' oncoming complaint. The Sorting Hat could see that even after only one day this dorm was a wreck. "And something powerfully magical." He pulled out Fawkes for display. The baby phoenix attempted to fly away, but was still to weak to do so.

"How'd you find a phoenix in the school?" interrogated James pulling out the keys and twirling them around his fingers.

"You did not," protested an extremely pale Remus looking at the Sorting Hat and Fawkes. "You stole them from the Headmaster's office!" Peter gasped even louder this time.

"How'd you get in Sirius, I mean, Black?" asked a flabbergasted James.

"Well, James, I mean, Potter, I walked right in, picked them up, and walked right back out," said Sirius simply a smug look on his face.

"You can't go stealing the Headmaster's items! He'll come looking for them! What will we tell him then?" Remus shouted at Sirius though he looked more terrified then angry.

"He won't miss the hat. My cousin Cissy said that they only use the hat for the sorting at the beginning of the year," declared Sirius defiantly.

"Plus if Sirius could get in and out unnoticed it probably means that nobody's there," defended James. "You don't mind if I call you Sirius, do you? After all, we'll be dorming together for the next seven years."

"Alright, Potter. Should I call you Potter or James?" asked Sirius offering his hand.

"James, and I'm not falling for the old joy-buzzer trick. That thing's eons old," replied James crossing his arms in front of his chest. Sirius laughed and put the joy-buzzer back in his bedside table drawer.

"You guys can call me Peter," announced Peter Pettigrew eagerly.

"And you may call me Remus or Lupin. Just don't give me any stupid sort of nickname like Peeves did," affirmed Remus. "Can we focus on a plan to get the phoenix and the Sorting Hat back?"

"Oh yeah, I heard Peeves call you 'Loony Loopy Lupin' this morning. It was hysterical," laughed Sirius in a rather doglike bark. The other three began to chuckle as well. The Sorting Hat watched in amazement at the four boys laughing together as friends when moments before they had been so hostile towards each other. They began tossing him around the room discussing how to return him. But then the Sorting Hat remembered what Professor Dumbledore had said earlier that morning.

The Sorting Hat cleared his throat. "I would suggest returning Fawkes and me as soon as possible. Professor Dumbledore has gone down to the gates to meet one more student who I was supposed to sort half an hour ago." James Potter dropped him at this news. All four boys turned extremely pale.

"We've got to get him back right now," pronounced Remus standing up. He put Fawkes and the Sorting Hat back in the bag. The Sorting Hat could hear their plan through the sack. "James, take the sack and Sirius with you. Sirius should be able to get you in. Then put them back in the exact places you found them in. Make sure you don't knock anything over. If anyone comes looking for the two of you we'll say that the two of you are in the lavatory." But before anyone could make another move the door swung open.

"Good evening," stated Professor Dumbledore mildly. "I was on a stroll back from the gates and I noticed a trail of candy wrappers coming from the Great Hall. So I followed it all the way up here." Remus, James, and Sirius all turned to look at Peter who smiled meekly and turned a dark shade of red. "Ah, Mr. Filch's keys. He said they'd gone missing," he said picking up the keys. "Silenced too, clever. Were you on a stroll as well, Mr. Lupin? I see you have a sack." The Sorting Hat could feel Remus' hand trembling as the sack was given to Dumbledore. When Dumbledore opened the sack Fawkes began chirping wildly. "My, my, Fawkes, how did you end up here? Certainly you did not fly?" The bird gave Dumbledore a slightly irritated look.

"We're terribly sorry, sir," said James. All four of them bowed their heads in shame, and the Sorting Hat couldn't help but feel bad for them. "We were having a scavenger hunt…"

"Ah, a scavenger hunt," replied Professor Dumbledore. "Such an enlightening game. Much better then looking for centaurs in the forest, wouldn't you say, my good friend?"

"Definitely better then looking for centaurs armed with arrows in the Forbidden Forest," retorted the Sorting Hat. The four boys looked up at Professor Dumbledore in shock. "You and Elphias performed some of the most ridiculous and stupidest stunts I have ever seen in Hogwart's history. At least Minerva and Tom didn't go looking for trouble besides trying to outdo each other. Filius and Pomona were good children, just caught up in a stupid grudge between two peers. Of course, you and Elphias did not beat Master Gryffindor in the trouble seeking business. He was a disaster in school." Everyone else in the room had begun snickering hearing about their professors being talked about in such a manner.

"Perhaps you can save some of those stories for another day. We still have one sorting to complete and then you have all year," interrupted Professor Dumbledore.

"Very well, where is this new student?" asked the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore turned around and in the doorway stood a boy who looked somehow very familiar to the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore placed the Sorting Hat on the boy's head and the Sorting Hat could see something in him that he had not seen for almost a thousand years. "GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat bellowed. Dumbledore pulled the Sorting Hat off the boy's head said goodnight to the now complete Gryffindor dorm and was walking back to his office before the Sorting Hat could say anything to the descendent of his late Master Gryffindor.


	8. Chapter 8: Interviews and Inquisitions

**Sorry I've taken so long to update, but here is some more Marauder and Sorting Hat nonsense! Also, if you are enjoying Just a Thinking Cap, try some of the other stories from Dobby's Socks like the in-progress sequel to this story: The Hogwarts Dragon Murder Case.**

**Chapter Eight:**

**Interviews and Inquisitions**

To catch young master Gryffindor was not going to be easy, the Sorting Hat decided. He was going to have to be extremely stealthy, and since he was a hat, stealth would not come easily. The Sorting Hat knew he'd have to be as witty as Rowena, cunning as Salazar, determined as Helga, and brave as Master Gryffindor himself. Now if only he could find a good way into Gryffindor Common Room.

There were two ways in from the Sorting Hat's recollection: the portrait hole and an old secret passageway hidden by a tapestry. The Four boys had blown up a potion of Severus Snape's in the secret passageway just the other day, and it had resulted in a rather sticky affair and all five boys received detention (Snape had not received permission to make the potion in the first place). Professor McGonagall was about ready to pull her hair out (all the staff members had at least one gray hair by now; Horace Slughorn was starting to go bald). That route was eliminated, so he decided to go try the portrait hole.

The Fat Lady stared him down as he scuffled up to the bottom of her frame. "You do not look like a student," she said, looking at him as if he were filth on the hem of her dress.

"Well, you see, good lady, I'm not. I'm looking for a certain student in this house…"

"I am not permitted to let anyone outside the House of Gryffindor to enter this tower," the Fat Lady replied curtly.

"And a noble house it is, and I should know. You see, my lady, I am his hat," responded the Sorting Hat.

"His what?"

"His hat. I am Godric Gryffindor's hat. I'm the keeper of his sword. I fought with Master Godric in many-a-war. I valiantly stayed by his side at the Battle of-"

"Well then, rag-"

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed the Sorting Hat.

"-Where's the proof?" she inquired, raising a doubtful eyebrow at him.

"My lady," retorted the Sorting Hat. He was starting to get extremely annoyed. "I sort all the students at the beginning of the year: I'm the Sorting Hat."

"Then you're not Godric Gryffindor's Hat."

"No, you're missing the point. I belonged to Master Gryffindor," enunciated the Sorting Hat. "He went off to fight a war and he left me here to sort the students."

"Even so, I cannot let you in unless you know the password," stated the Fat Lady. "Plus you have given no concrete evidence."

"What do you mean, no concrete evidence? I'm a hat! I can talk! I speak English, French, German, Bulgarian, Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Hindi, Latin, Swedish, Russian, all the tribal languages of Africa, Arabic, Portuguese, and Old English-eth! I have patches from places where I was stabbed or cursed when Master Godric was fighting! What do you want? A note, a signed note from Godric Gryffindor saying, 'I hereby-eth give the Sorting Hat, _my hat_, permission-eth to enter-eth Gryffindor Tower-eth.' He happens to be dead, long before your smug face was ever painted upon that canvas in that hideous pink dress!" Here the Fat Lady gasped in horror. "Look at that! It was a beautiful canvas! A beautiful canvas, and you are desecrating it! You should feel ashamed! All the detail put into the background is ruined! Because of you!"

"Why you insolent, little three-inch fool!" shrieked the Fat Lady, her face turning purple with rage. "I was painted in Venice by a master artist!" The Sorting Hat was about to holler back, but someone picked him up by the top of his cloth.

"I believe it's time to return you to your shelf, master hat," stated Professor McGonagall. She started walking down the hall as the Fat Lady continued screaming at him.

"There is not yet a pit of Hell foul enough to contain thee!" bellowed the Sorting Hat, struggling to get away.

"Go rot!" the Fat Lady yelled in return.

When they got back to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore chuckled as the Sorting Hat attempted to explain his actions. "My, my, Sorting Hat, it sounds like you have had quite the adventure," chortled Professor Dumbledore. It reminded the Sorting Hat of countless of times that Master Gryffindor had stood in front of the Great Queen Maeve (may she rest in peace) all the times he had gotten in trouble at school. "Perhaps you should apologize to her, otherwise the two of you may have sore feelings towards each other until this school crumbles."

"Oh, I'm not apologizing to that beastly woman!" cried out the Sorting Hat.

"You know, grudges are not a wise thing to hold, my friend," replied Dumbledore.

"Oh, you should have heard her," snapped the Sorting Hat. "I'll teach her to call me a rag. I have a sword in me! I'll go out one night and stab her! Yes, that's what I'll do-"

As he mumbled to himself, he overheard McGonagall talking to the Headmaster. "You should exhort better control over him, Albus. He could really mean what he says."

"He and I will get along fine, don't you worry, Minerva," tittered Dumbledore while looking over in his direction. "We'll find a way to pass the time." The Sorting Hat highly doubted that an old man like Dumbledore could keep him occupied for a whole afternoon and a night.

OoO

The Sorting Hat and Professor Dumbledore played chess all night. By the time the sun was rising, the Sorting Hat was more tired then Professor Dumbledore. "Well, Professor," yawned the Sorting Hat, all thoughts of killing the Fat Lady out of his mind, "I think I'm going to retire to my shelf now."

"Really? We were just starting. I'm ready to play another match," said the Headmaster.

"No! No, I'm pretty sure," replied the Sorting Hat graciously. He had been scuttling along the board all night to move the pieces since they would not listen to his commands. Now they were hollering things such as: 'that is right! Get out of here!' and 'Where's the other player? Is that _hat_ going to move us? I think not!'

He had not had such a good nap in years, and when he awoke, Professor Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. Immediately, his thoughts went to young master Gryffindor again. The Sorting Hat fell from the shelf and scuffled out of the office, Fawkes the phoenix giving him an odd glance. "What are you looking at?" the Sorting Hat interrogated.

He was on the seventh floor landing of the Grand Staircase when opportunity came knocking beneath him. A third year named Frank Longbottom was starting to come up the staircase, probably on the way to Gryffindor Tower. The Sorting Hat climbed up to a ledge and jumped onto his bag when Frank was not looking. He immediately flattened himself against it so that nobody would notice him hitchhiking his way into the tower.

OoO

Sirius Black put down his bag by the broom shed and waited for James to be done with Quidditch practice. James loved Quidditch: he talked about it almost as much as he talked about Lily Evans, a girl in their year that James found attractive. They were supposed to go wait for Remus to return to the common room that afternoon. He was away at home again for his aunt Loretta was ill yet again. Someone in Remus' family fell ill every month, but Sirius had noticed that Remus looked a lot more ill then any of his family members could be. Every month he'd turn extremely pale and sickly for about a week, disappear, and then come back with scars all over his body. Peter thought that perhaps Remus had a badly behaved pet, but that was just because Peter had had traumatic experiences with his first pet rabbit.

James came bounding over to the broom shed with broom in tow, his hair windswept like always, a broad grin across his face. As they walked up to the castle, James explained a new prank he had devised for Snape that would lock him inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Is something the matter, Sirius?" asked James, looking at his friend.

"I was just thinking," replied Sirius, "isn't Remus out of school an awful lot."

"Yeah," responded James, "I'm surprised that his aunt Loretta hasn't dropped dead yet."

"Yet he's the one who always looks ill," continued Sirius.

"Honestly, mate, if you believe Pete's 'badly behaved rabbit' theories, I'll tear your arms off and stick them to your kneecaps."

"No, that stuff is ridiculous," stated Sirius, "but you have to admit he's one sickly looking chap."

"Yep, I wonder what's the matter with him," said James, throwing a snitch up into the air and catching it each time. "I had an uncle who used to be like that; he'd received a bite from a zombie."

"You're joking, right?"

"Hey look!" exclaimed James. "It's Evans! Hello, Evans!"

Lily Evans was sitting under a tree doing some homework. She looked up and sighed exasperated when she saw whom it was. "Potter, Black, will you leave me alone? I'm trying to work on my star chart here. Shouldn't you work on yours? They're due tomorrow."

"So what?" Sirius retorted. "Observation is not until tomorrow. Look at that moon, Evans. Why not just sit out here and look at how full it is-"

"It's not full, you fool," responded Lily, packing up your things. "It was full last night. Learn your phases. Why don't you and Potter ask Remus to teach them to you?"

"He's never here on the full moon. Always at some sick family member's house," snapped James. He hated when people thought he and Sirius were stupid. So what if they couldn't tell their moon phases apart. "Sirius and I always invite him and Pete to have a campfire up in the Astronomy Tower on the full moon, and he always says no."

"You've been sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower after hours!" shouted Lily. She stood up and began marching up to the school. "I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall!"

"Evans, please!" James begged, but Lily was already through the doors. "Great, now look what you've done, Sirius. Sirius?"

Sirius had grown wide-eyed over the past minute and his mouth was hanging open. "James…"

"What?"

"Do you think that-"

"That what?"

"…Never mind," replied Sirius. They continued walking up to the castle when they saw Peter and their other dorm mate (whose name always slipped Sirius' mind) running up from the other side of the grounds, covered in dirt.

"I swear, Peter," said their dorm mate, "you need to be more careful. That tree almost killed us."

"Sorry," squeaked Peter. "It's just that those big Slytherins never leave me alone. Thanks for the help."

"No problem," the boy stated and he dashed off to join a younger boy walking up to the castle. Sirius couldn't help but envy their dorm mate: his older brother was a Slytherin but the two of them still got along fine. Sometimes they would argue in the hallways but it always ended with the two of them laughing. He didn't spend much time with people in their year, for his best friend was the year behind. Lily knew them both and swore on her life that the younger boy was a genius.

"What's up Pete?" questioned James. "Slytherins bothering you again. Listen, I came up with this great prank we could pull on them."

"Alright," huffed Peter. "As long as they end up under the Whomping Willow."

"What, did it crush you?" inquired Sirius.

"No, I fell down a hole under the tree. 'Ric came after me; it was real nice of him," explained Peter. "But while we were down there, we saw that there was a tunnel under the tree. We followed it and do you know where it led?"

"Where?" asked James.

"The Shrieking Shack," said Peter excitedly. "Only it was all torn up and stuff. It looked like someone kept a beast in there."

Sirius' blood froze. He remembered one night he had seen Madam Pomfrey go towards the Whomping Willow with Remus in tow: it had been the full moon. That night Remus was supposed to have been going home to see his sick Aunt Loretta…

…And it looked like a beast was kept down there. A beast that howled into the night creating countless bone-chilling stories, a beast that only appeared on the full moon.

That was the moment that Sirius Black discovered and knew almost for sure that Remus John Lupin was a werewolf. "Uh, g-g-guys?" he stammered.

OoO

He had explained his theory to them on the way up to Gryffindor Tower. "Are you certain?" asked James worriedly. "I mean, one hundred percent positive?"

"Almost positive," said Sirius. "It makes sense with all his absences and his appearance."

"Maybe we should ask him," whispered Peter. "He's coming back tonight."

"Oh yeah, sure," mocked James. "I can imagine it. 'Hey Remus, do you turn into a blood thirsty beast once a month?' Real smooth."

"Be quiet," hissed Sirius as they reached Gryffindor Tower. "We don't want anyone else knowing."

"Why not? They might know something," stated Peter.

"But what if it's not true, Peter, and Remus gets kicked out of school for no reason because people were afraid because of a rumor we spread," clarified James. They walked up the stairs to their dorm silently. "We need hard, core facts." He swung open the door and they heard a distinct scuffling coming from near 'Ric's bed. Sirius could see a familiar fabric hat muttering to itself as he tried to climb one of the posts of the four-poster bed.

"I've got an idea," Sirius mouthed to the other two and he pointed over to where the Sorting Hat stood oblivious to their plans. They spotted him and nodded fervently.

Two spell books whizzing up from behind him and squishing him between their hard covers were the last two things the Sorting Hat remembered before blacking out.

OoO

When he awoke, the Sorting Hat had been blindfolded and strapped down to some sort of table. Even though he couldn't see anything distinctly through the cloth, he could tell that there was a bright light shining on him from above.

"Sorting Hat!" rang out a deep voice from above. "Divulge your secrets to me at once!"

The Sorting Hat felt his fabric stiffen. Some scoundrel wanted him to divulge the most secret information in Hogwarts. "Never!" he shouted, racking up all the courage he could muster. "I will never divulge my secrets to anyone!"

"You're asking for it," stated another voice threateningly. He heard something in the background that sounded like scissors.

"Ah! No, not scissors!" cried the Sorting Hat. He now wished that he had never let himself leave the office. No, he had not let himself leave the office: Dumbledore did. If he got out of this alive, the Sorting Hat was going to have a word with that irresponsible man. "Master Gryffindor! Master Gryffindor! Help me!"

"Master Gryffindor is not here to save you now, Sir Hat!" squeaked a female voice.

"Back you fiends! I'm warning you! I have a sword!" he called out to the bright light.

"Get the matches, Wo-" demanded the first voice, "I mean Woman!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Woman.

A match was lit somewhere in the room and he could feel the heat from the flame coming closer and closer. It brought back terrible memories: Fawkes, the wooden stand, flaming bookcases and him stuck in the middle of it. The Sorting Hat could not take it anymore. "Alright!" he yelped. "I give up! I give up! What do you want to know? Please, just spare my miserable existence!"

"I knew you'd give in," said the second voice in triumph. "Hats easily cave to fire and scissors, and I have both and you know it! Now tell us, is there a werewolf at thi- at Hogwarts?"

"What?" asked the Sorting Hat. He immediately thought of Remus Lupin and then of Professor Dumbledore. The Sorting Hat had promised never to reveal Mr. Lupin's predicament to anybody. "Why would you want to know that? Even if I knew that strange creatures were attending the school, I'd never tell you."

"Come on, please!" squealed Woman. "Is Remus a werewolf or not?"

"Remus who?" spluttered the Sorting Hat angrily. "Who are you?"

"Shut up, Pete!" hissed a boy's voice. It sounded quite like the second voice, only a lot younger. Unfortunately for his captors, the Sorting Hat now knew exactly whom he was dealing with.

"Sirius Black! Unhand me this instant!" he yelled at the boy. The Sorting Hat began wriggling which caused the sock tied around his eyes to fall off. From the looks of it, they were sitting in the bathroom closet of the second year Gryffindors' dorm. James Potter was pointing his wand at the Sorting Hat's head and Sirius held a charcoal-ended match near his brim. "You-you marauders have gone too far this time! You may be certain that the Headmaster _and_ Professor McGonagall will hear about this!"

"Don't let him get away, Pete," declared James. "We cannot let him tell Professor McGonagall. She'll make us scrub the bedpans again!"

"Hey, I kind of like Marauders," mused Sirius absentmindedly. "Sort of has this kind of ring to it, you know?"

"I've got him! I've got-" shouted Peter, who did sound remarkably like a girl. However, something happened then that the three would never have expected.

"See, 'Ric, I told you someone was in the closet," said the blonde first-year boy that Sirius had seen earlier. Their dorm mate was looking at the three disbelievingly on the floor of the closet. Frank Longbottom was standing behind them, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead.

"Okay, Ben, you were right," admitted their dorm mate. "Hey, guys. Uh, are you having a campfire or something?"

"Yes," answered James a little too quickly. "Now if you don't mind I'd like to go back to roasting my marshmallows in peace."

"But that's a hat," interrupted Frank.

"No kidding, Sherlock," retorted Sirius. "Goodbye!"

"You might want to give the Sorting Hat back," replied the first-year named Ben. "Lily and Professor McGonagall are looking for you."

"Don't tell them that we're here!" begged Peter, hugging Frank around the knees. "Please! I don't want to scrub bedpans again!" From the blunt force, Frank fell over onto his back. The loud thump caused someone to shout up the stairs.

"Potter! Black! Pettigrew! Come down here this instant!" snapped Professor McGonagall.

"See, justice will be served, young Master G-" the Sorting Hat stated proudly. Young Master Gryffindor had other ideas in mind though and pulled Frank and Ben into the closet as well and shut the door. "What are you doing?"

"Everyone be quiet," muttered 'Ric. Footsteps echoed on the stone stairs outside and then the dormitory door swung open.

"Potter? Black? Pettigrew? I know you're up here," announced Professor McGonagall. Her boots could be seen under the closet door by now, yet they never turned in the closet's direction. She paced about the room looking under all the beds. "When you three decide to grow up and accept consequences then come down to my office. I will only wait for so long, however, so you all had better make up your minds quickly or the Headmaster will hear about this." The bottom of her robes swept out of the room and all six boys in the closet let out a sigh of relief.

"Why are we in here, 'Ric?" inquired Frank Longbottom.

"Because Remus isn't here to get them out of trouble," responded the boy. "We can't let him have all the fun in debating with Professor McGonagall."

"You really are unpredictable, 'Ric," grumbled Ben. "Now could we get out of here?"

"Alright, alright, just hold on a second," said the boy, pushing on the door. It didn't budge. He tried a few more times but still the door did not open. "It won't open."

"You're kidding me!" exclaimed Sirius while struggling through the mass of people. He began slamming himself against the door until he fell down dizzily. "I guess you're not."

"We're going to starve!" cried Peter. The Sorting Hat hoped that Peter really did not think of him as a marshmallow. Not to mention that this was the last place in the world he wanted to be in right now (besides the kitchens: so many bad things can happen in the kitchens).

"Pete, we've only been in here for twenty minutes," griped James. "If only Lily were here, she'd know exactly what to do."

"Stop talking about Evans," complained the frustrated Sirius. "She's the enemy; her best friend is Snivellus, remember."

"James likes Evans?" questioned Peter in an air of surprise.

"Where have you been the past year?" groused Sirius.

"James and Evans sitting in a tree!" yelled 'Ric. "K-I-S-S-I-N-"

"Please stop it, 'Ric," moaned Frank, clutching his head. His face was turning steadily green from the stress of being locked in a closet with overly energetic underclassmen.

"Uh, guys," said Ben.

"G!!!" screamed Sirius, joining 'Ric. James was in the process of trying to strangle the both.

"Will you stop it, all of you!" hollered the Sorting Hat. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ben giving out a sigh and then pulling out his wand.

"Alohomora," he said waving his wand at the door. The closet door jerked open so quickly that all of the occupants fell on their faces outside the closet.

"Air! Free air!" bellowed Frank before charging out of the room. He yelped as he ran into someone in the doorway, which caused Frank to fall down the boy's staircase. The Sorting Hat saw a Slytherin badge on the boy's robes along with a prefect's badge glistening underneath. His dark brown hair was cropped neatly out of his face and one corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. Dark blue eyes gleamed out from deep sockets.

"Oh hey, Randy," chirped 'Ric from the floor. "Shouldn't you be down in your common room, or the library, or outside, or somewhere where it's not breaking the rules.

"I told one of the other prefects that I was looking for you, so they let me in," replied the boy, shrugging his shoulders. "There's nothing in the rules that forbids me from visiting you."

"Half the time I'm not sure why you're not in Gryffindor, Randy," stated Ben.

James was not as welcoming. "Hey, you're a Slytherin! What are you doing in our dorm?"

"I already made it clear that I was let in," responded Randy coldly. "What I'd like to know is what you all were doing in the closet?"

"Well… um…" stammered James. Fortunately, he was saved from the rather embarrassing issue when Remus walked into the door.

"Hey, Remus!" said Sirius. "How was your aunt? Is she feeling better?" The boy did not reply. "Remus?" asked Sirius tentatively. Remus fell over onto the bed in utter exhaustion.

"Is he okay?" inquired Randy. All of the boys walked over to him and the Sorting Hat scuffled after them.

James, Sirius, and Peter turned Remus over. "Ahh!" shrieked Peter, recoiling from their friend. Two long scars ran down Remus' face looking as if a wild beast had slashed him. Some dried blood was between two of his fingernails.

"Oh my, oh my," stated the Sorting Hat worriedly. "Someone should go get the matron."

"We'll go," said 'Ric. He began walking away from the bed with Ben and Randy. "We'll be back in a bit."

"Make sure he's still breathing and don't let anyone else in the room," declared Ben as the three boys left. "You should also probably wash the blood out from between his fingernails. James, Sirius, and Peter stood around their friend shooting nervous glances across to each other. After about five minutes, Remus' eyelids fluttered open.

"Remus, are you okay?" asked James.

"Wha-what's going on?" questioned Remus drearily.

"You passed out," replied Sirius. His face grew somber. "Hey, Remus?"

"What?" Remus seemed oblivious to what Sirius was asking, but the Sorting Hat knew exactly what Sirius would ask at that moment. Even though he should have prevented it, the Sorting Hat inwardly decided to let Sirius continue.

"Are y-you a werewolf?" inquired Sirius.

"What?" replied Remus anxiously.

"Well, you're always gone on the full moon and we figured out that the teachers have been hiding you down in the Whomping Willow," supplied James.

Remus attempted to sit up. "I guess I should go home now."

"Remus," pleaded Peter. "Please don't go, you're our friend! We wouldn't care if you were a werewolf, a vampire, or a Nargle."

"A what?" questioned the three others.

"Xenophelius Lovegood was talking about them once," muttered Peter. Xenophilius was a Ravenclaw boy in the seventh year that had some rather odd tendencies and thoughts. One time the Sorting Hat had caught him trying to eat his dinner with a hollow drinking straw. Another time he was wading out in the lake attempting to talk to the Giant Squid.

"Peter's right, Remus. We don't care and we'll lock you in that closet over there if you try to leave," stated James defiantly.

"You all really still want to be friends?" murmured Remus.

"Why wouldn't we?" responded Sirius seriously. "By the way, you look awful. What happened?"

"I suppose I must have scratched myself," said Remus jadedly. "That happens sometimes."

"Remus don't hurt yourself," cried Peter tearfully. "It's just not fair."

"You're right Peter," announced James. "It really isn't fair. We've got to stop you from mauling yourself, Remus."

"James, I'm a werewolf, remember," Remus reminded him quietly. "You guys really can't stop me. I'd bite you. You'd have to be a mouse to get away from me."

"That's it!" exclaimed James energetically.

"We'll program mice to stop him?" asked Peter.

"No, Pete," replied James. "We'll become Animagi!"

"You guys can't," responded Remus. "The Ministry wouldn't let you."

"Who said we were going to ask the Ministry?" inquired Sirius slyly.

"You wouldn't dare. You can't do that!" protested Remus. "That's illegal!"

"We know, that's why it's called being _illegal_ Animagi," said James. "It will take a while but Sirius and I can manage it and we'll help Pete along the way."

"You'll all get in trouble," groaned Remus. "And then it will be all my fault."

"Nope, we're the ones making the decision, Remus," stated Sirius. "And it will be worth it. We're Gryffindors! We live to get in trouble, and I bet Pete here is even courageous and reckless enough to brave Azkaban, right Pete?"

"Uh…"

"I'll take that as a yes," provided Sirius. Remus was about to argue again but the matron entered at that moment causing the boys to cease their argument. Randy, Ben, and 'Ric all stood in the doorway until Madam Pomfrey announced that the boy was okay.

"Come on, Ben and 'Ric," said Randy. "We've got some practicing to do." The three of them left.

"Hey! Hey!" called the Sorting Hat. "Wait for me!" Yet today apparently was not one of his good days, for afterwards Madam Pomfrey carried the Sorting Hat forcefully back to the Headmaster's office. "The Founders should have been more specific on their directions of how to follow their attributes," he grumbled later on.

Even though the day turned out to be a blunder, the Sorting Hat would look back on it as one of the most important days in the history of Hogwarts. It was a day that solidified friendships and a day that created a traitor. If he had known what would happen, the Sorting Hat would not have let Sirius Black ask that fateful question…


	9. Chapter 9: It Happened One Night

**Well it's been a pretty long time… a very long time… -_-;**

**Anyhow I am back, and I feel that the first thing that should be accomplished is actually finishing this story, so here we go.**

**Chapter Nine:**

**It Happened One Night**

He really needed to stop promising favors. It always got him in trouble. Like right now; he was sitting in front of Professor Jeck's Defense Against the Dark Arts Class all because he had been rescued from the laundry once more by Professor Dumbledore. His request had been for him to sit on the desk and answer any stupid questions the students might throw at him, take attendance, play a film, and make sure someone didn't set the school on fire accidentally. That shouldn't be too hard. The Sorting Hat looked at the schedule and was dismayed to see that the sixth year students were on the schedule today. That meant he would have to deal with the Marauders.

Now he was impressed by all the schemes they got away with. The Sorting Hat had gotten some good chuckles in upon seeing Filch's cat dyed the same shade of purple as the Headmaster's robes, and the time that chubby little Delores Umbridge found that dungbomb in her candy wrapper instead of her favorite pink chocolate, and the time when Lucius Malfoy grew cat ears after making fun of a muggleborn's Christmas sweater. Some things, however, he felt were crossing the line, especially in the case of one Severus Snape. Sure, Snape was the sallow, slimy, sneaky, snarky, all around bitter person, but the Sorting Hat knew the cause of his bitterness. He would never share the secrets from Snape's past with anybody, for that was against his principles. But still he worried. He worried about the kinds of people Snape now hung out with and the kinds of spells he saw them practicing in abandoned classrooms at night. There was something different in the air now. Before the wizarding war had been contained outside of Hogwart's ancient halls. Now it seemed to be slowly creeping inside.

The Sorting Hat felt that he should tell the Headmaster about this, but Dumbledore was often not around. The Headmaster would disappear for days at a time, and when he did come back he was barraged with an endless list of meetings with staff and students. The Sorting Hat soon found he was spending more time worrying about Albus Dumbledore than young Master Gryffindor and his brother.

Randolph had practically disappeared upon his graduation from Hogwarts. From what the Sorting Hat could tell from the snippets of Dumbledore's conversations he overheard it seemed as if the Headmaster had sent Randolph out to spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Being the most vulnerable object in the room was not a plus for the Sorting Hat. It meant that he was left out of the loop by the portraits lining the walls of Dumbledore's office, so he spent most of his days sleeping or grumbling to himself. He'd never admit that he was lonely. Then again, he had always been lonely. Ever since he'd taken up permanent residence in this castle he had not had a constant friend, someone who he could talk to if he so desired.

The bell tolled signaling the hour had come. The Marauders would be here. Unfortunately, Severus Snape was the first to walk into the classroom and after sending him a scathing look the boy sat down in the front of the classroom. The Sorting Hat got the vibe that Severus still did not forgive him for sorting his ex best friend into Slytherin's rival house. This also meant it was going to be an unpleasant class. He could not figure out why Slytherins and Gryffindors were even allowed to have classes together. The rest of the class began filing in: McNair, Lily Evans, Nott, Mary MacDonald, and finally one, two, three… only three Marauders?

The Sorting Hat counted again. He could see Sirius Black clearly in the back row flicking pieces of paper at the back of Orsina Greengrass' head. Peter Pettigrew had settled down frantically copying Remus Lupin's homework. Lupin looked exhausted to say the least. He seemed relieved to see that Professor Jeck was not in class today. Thinking back to the calendar hanging on the wall in Dumbledore's office, the Sorting Hat remembered that tonight would be the full moon. This was more likely than not Remus' last class for the day, so he felt that he should go easy on him. He then turned his attention back to the door.

He had heard horror stories from other teachers about what happens when James Potter is late to class. The Sorting Hat was desperately wishing for the boy to show up, but just before the bell rang he saw that young Master Gryffindor would be the last student to grace the Sorting Hat with his timely presence. He felt that it would be best to move on and take role. As he reached Potter's name young Master Gryffindor raised his hand. "James told me to tell you that he could not come to class today," he said. Students looked around at each other and began whispering. Sirius Black appeared to also genuinely be shocked.

"Alright," the Sorting Hat replied. "Did Mr. Potter tell you why?"

Young Master Gryffindor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, seeing all eyes on him. "He's in the Hospital Wing, sir."

"Oh," responded the Sorting Hat. He left it at that and called Lily Evans up to help him working the magical projector. The lights dimmed and the classroom for the most part fell silent except for the drone of the voice of the wizard on the projector. He noticed, though, that Sirius Black appeared to be talking to young Master Gryffindor in the back. No matter how good the latest spells were they were of no effect on him, seeing as he was indeed a hat.

"What happened?" Sirius asked.

"A seventh year Slytherin hexed him in the hallway," whispered young Master Gryffindor.

"What? Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine."

"Serves him right."

"Shut up Snivellus!"

"It was only a matter of time before someone tried to deflate that big head of his."

"I said shut up!"

"Sirius, I don't think this is getting you anywhere."

"I don't need your help with this 'Ric."

"Him running off to the Hospital Wing just shows how scared and weak he really is."

"I swear, Snivellus, I'll hex your nose right off."

"Bet he's looking like Lupin right now. Peeves is right to call him loopy-"

"He's ill! At least he has a reason to look like that, unlike you!" hissed Sirius with a fierce glare on his face. The Sorting Hat had never seen this look on his face before, but he recognized it. Whenever the Black family wanted someone to regret something they did then they got that look on their faces. Normally something awful was bound to happen to whomever received this look.

"Oh, so there _is_ a reason."

"It's none of your business, Snivellus."

"Whatever could it be? Dragon pox? The plague? I bet it's something ghastly. I've seen him going out to hide under that tree. Something he probably got from his mudblood mother-"

"You think you're much better? If you went through what he does all the time you'd be wetting your trousers daily, Snivellus! Bet they've got 'Coward!' embroidered on the back-"

"_I am NOT a coward_!" snarled Snape.

"Then prove it!" sneered Sirius. "You think you're so brave? Then follow him out tonight! All you need is to prod the knot under the willow with a twig. We'll see who's scared."

"Fine!"

The bell rang and the students left the classroom, but the Sorting Hat was frozen in his seat. Sirius had just told Snape how to get under the Whomping Willow. If Snape were to go under there…

He had to do something. He didn't know what, but someone had to stop Snape. "Mr. Black!" he called out.

Sirius came up to the table. "Yes?" he asked.

"I really think that you should tell Mr. Snape not to go out tonight," he said.

Sirius barked out a laugh. "I don't have to," he stated while shaking his hair out of his eyes. "There's no way he'll actually go out there, and if he does, then Madam Pomfrey will catch him before he even gets close."

The Sorting Hat was not so sure of that.

OoO

It had taken over an hour, but he managed to escape the Headmaster's office. He glanced about before creeping along the floor. There was no way he'd be able to find Snape before going outside, but he may be early enough to run into Madam Pomfrey on her way down with Lupin…

"Hey!" someone shouted. Beards and bungled up spells! He had been caught. The Sorting Hat turned around to face Lily Evans.

"Er… hello, Miss Evans… how are you this lovely evening?" he stuttered.

She seemed a bit embarrassed to see that she had not called out a student. "Oh, sorry. Thought you were a student out of bed. I thought I heard something fall."

"Nevermind about that," he said. He decided it would be best not to mention the mess he had made in the Headmaster's office. "Have you seen Madam Pomfrey? I needed to ask her something."

"She just closed up for the night," replied Lily. She must have noticed the look of horror on his fabric face, for she continued to speak. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh… um… oh, blast! I need to talk to someone about… an issue… otherwise someone will be in mortal peril!" he blurted out. She seemed confused, but also very worried. "Is there anyone I could talk to?"

"Well I'm here-"

"No, no… could you take me to Gryffindor Tower?" he inquired.

"Of course," she said while picking him up. "I don't see how this will help, though." He could feel the nervous energy pulsing through his fabric, just like in the old days when Master Gryffindor would take him gallivanting about towards any sense of danger or adventure. But this time it was not his life at stake. It was not Master Gryffindor intentionally putting his life at stake either, but rather someone who had no idea what he was getting himself into. The Sorting Hat needed to talk to someone who could do something about this; someone who could come up with ideas quickly and not be afraid to do whatever it would take to stop Severus Snape.

When they entered the common room he was thanking the heavens that first off practically everyone was in bed. Only Young Master Gryffindor, his friend Ben, Sirius, and Peter sat up in the common room all (except the last one) reading or working on assignments. He called out to Young Master Gryffindor. "Yo- 'Ric, might I talk to you for a moment?"

The boy put down his book. "Of course." He strode right over and thankfully Lily had enough sense to go off and return to her prefect duties. "Is something wrong?"

"Absolutely," replied the Sorting Hat just about bursting at the seams from anxiety. "_That one_ over there told Severus Snape to go down to the Whomping Willow tonight."

"That's rather immature, Sirius," stated Ben, looking up from an essay. "I really had hoped that you and Snape would have gotten over it by now. He's a git, but that doesn't mean you have to keep butting heads with him."

"He deserves to be scared," grumbled Sirius. He didn't even look up from _A Brief History of Magical Creatures of the Scottish Highlands- Unabridged_ to look at Ben. "Maybe he'll finally learn something besides Dark Magic."

"I don't see why you want me to do anything about this," replied Young Master Gryffindor. "I'm sure Snape's already out there. Filch or one of the prefects will catch him, and he'll be sour tomorrow. Is there something else going on?"

"Tonight is the full moon," the Sorting Hat seethed. He looked scathingly at Sirius Black. Peter gasped and looked at his friend.

"Padfoot! How could you?" he yelped.

"Nothing will happen. Madam Pomfrey will catch him for sure," said Sirius while still reading.

"Madam Pomfrey will catch whom?" asked James, coming into the common room with a towel on his head.

"Snape," stated Ben. "Sirius told him to go out to the Willow tonight."

James ripped the towel off his head. His face behind his askew glasses was now very pale. "YOU DID WHAT?" he bellowed at Sirius.

"I told him to sneak out," Sirius responded. "But he would have to of gotten past several prefects plus many Professors on the grounds and in their offices, not to mention Madam Pomfrey, before even getting close to the Willow. If everything goes as planned then Snivellus should be getting an earful in Dumbledore's office right now."

"But it hasn't!" the Sorting Hat interrupted. "Madam Pomfrey has closed up for the night and Snape is not in the Headmaster's office."

"How would you know?" Sirius shot back.

"Well… let's just say it's going to take people awhile to get inside…" muttered the Sorting Hat while shifting on the end table.

"Do you even realize what this means, Sirius?" hissed James.

"Well I didn't think he'd actually manage to get outside. If he can manage that then even _he_ should see Snivellus."

"Bloody hell! Will someone just explain what the whole significance of the full moon is? I mean, if it's a problem then it should be rising-" stated 'Ric.

"In about seven minutes," Ben said.

James bounded out of the common room. The Fat Lady shrieked as her portrait hit the interior wall (serves her right). Sirius stared at his best mate and seemed to really be taking in the implication of his actions now. His face was turning a ghostly shade and his eyes seemed to hollow out. He just sat there staring at the open portrait hole. Sirius dropped his book. Peter began pacing nervously about, appearing torn about whether he should follow James or run up into the dorm and hide. Ben gave Young Master Gryffindor a confused glance and stood up to follow James, but 'Ric interrupted him.

"I'll go. You stay here and try to figure out from these two what's going on. Also go look for McGonagall of Dumbledore, if Evans will let you," stated 'Ric.

"Are you sure? I mean it looks like whatever is going on outside might be a bit more serious," replied Ben. "If you're planning to go out there then I should really come with you."

"There's no use in both of us getting killed, if that's what may happen. For some reason I feel like it may be a likely outcome," said 'Ric. "Someone has to be left in the end, and it might as well be the better man. And I won't be alone. The Sorting Hat is coming with me."

The Sorting Hat was stunned. Young Master Gryffindor was taking him along? He had been dreaming about this day since-

Wait. They were probably going to die. He hadn't been dreaming of that. However, looking back on his life, he realized that this wasn't exactly new. Young Master Gryffindor picked him up and ran out of the common room, turning left as they had seen James do moments before. They zipped through twisted corridors that were mercifully empty. Peeves popped out of an adjacent hall on the third floor, but 'Ric hit him with some sort of spell that sent him off silently howling. There only problem came in the Entrance Hall.

Lily Evans was coming out of the Great Hall. She was examining the front doors, which the Sorting Hat could tell had recently been slammed. The sound was still reverberating off the stony ceiling. She looked up at the two of them. "You're out of bed out of hours, 'Ric. Honestly it seems to be one person after the other tonight," she sighed, running a hand through her long red hair. "I'll have to write you up now. Wait… did you put him up to this?"

"I- uh- can explain. R-really," stammered the Sorting Hat.

"Something weird is going on. No one seems to be telling me anything, but from what I can tell it is imperative that we stop Snape from reaching the Whomping Willow, which he may or may not have already done," replied Young Master Gryffindor serenely. He had a much better head on his shoulders that Master Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat noticed. So calm and collected. "Now if you don't mind, I need to be getting outside since James already is out there."

"Potter?" questioned Lily. "He's out too? Oh now Gryffindor House is really going to get it. Just to think of all the house points we'll lose. I better go out there and get him."

"Don't go out there!" ordered the Sorting Hat. She looked back at him. "It's the full moon."

"So what if it's-" she snapped back, but then she stopped. Her emerald eyes grew wide, and the Sorting Hat knew that she understood.

"Honestly, what's up with this whole full moon thing? It's not like there's a wer-" grumbled 'Ric.

Lily flung open the front doors and ran out onto the grounds. "Go after her!" the Sorting Hat yelled at Young Master Gryffindor.

He ran while shouting at him. "Is there a werewolf on the grounds? Why haven't we heard anything before this?"

"It's Mr. Lupin, you-you twat!" the Sorting Hat hollered back at him.

"Remus?" asked 'Ric in complete shock. But as he continued running it seemed to make more sense. "I suppose he does disappear every full moon. This is an awful mess Sirius has created."

Lily was bellowing out into the night. "Potter! Potter! JAMES!" They caught up with her and 'Ric grabbed her to stop her from running. "LET ME GO! LET ME GO! JAMES! PLEASE DON'T-"

A howl broke open the night under the silent, still Willow. Suddenly, the Sorting Hat saw two heads emerge from the hole under the tree. The one figure shoved the other back and launched a spell under the tree. He could hear Lupin yelp in pain. The other figure began running away from the tree as fast as he can, which the Sorting Hat could see was not that fast. Lily Evans had done much better moments before. The first reached down into the hole, pulling out the stick and as a reward received a branch to the side, sending him flying across the grounds. Lily shrieked, but she was drowned out by the sounds of the Willow pounding at the hole where Lupin was still trying to escape to follow his newfound prey.

Snape ran past them without even noticing that they were there. 'Ric let go of Lily who looked like she was going to run forward to help the first figure who was obviously James. Young Master Gryffindor held out an arm to stop her. "I'll go. You make sure Snape gets back into the castle," he said. But before he could step forward they all saw something incredible happen.

Where James had been laying a white stag was now struggling to get up. After gaining steady footing it bounded towards them, hazel eyes drilling into each one of them. The Sorting Hat had not been aware that James Potter was an animagus. As the stag reached them he could see a red mark growing slowly bigger, staining the pure white hide. He transformed back for a moment.

"He's pretty mad," he rasped, holding his side where the branch had made contact. "I don't know if he's strong enough to break through the tree or not, but I'm not taking any chances. We need to get inside now." 'Ric wrapped one of James' arms around his shoulders to hold him up, and Lily did the same on the other side. They ran back towards the castle as howls echoed across the grounds behind them.

oOo

He wasn't surprised that Dumbledore was there to greet them with Snape on their arrival back to the castle (though Snape didn't look happy to see either them or Dumbledore, though for once he didn't appear enraged either). So it was moments later that he found all of them sitting in the Headmaster's (miraculously clean) office. For once he was on the desk rather than on the shelf. Sirius Black joined them a few seconds later

"I am very disappointed in some of you," Dumbledore began. Sirius and Snape seemed to flinch. "Others of you I am very proud of the way you handled yourselves. I must thank you James, for going out there even though you knew Mr. Lupin had transformed by then."

"WHAT IS THAT THING DOING HERE?" hollered Snape. It had been the first time he had spoken since he had been rescued. "THAT MONSTER SHOULDN'T EVEN BE ALLOWED TO GO TO SCHOOL!"

"That 'thing' is your fellow student, Mr. Snape," replied Dumbledore coolly. "I suggest that you respect him. You have no idea what it is like to have to live as he does. He's far braver than any student here at this school."

"Please, Headmaster, don't punish Remus," Lily said. She looked about ready to cry.

"He probably doesn't even know what happened," stated 'Ric.

"He really wasn't involved in this whole thing," Sirius said quietly. His eyes were looking at Dumbledore's desk. "It's really all my fault. If anyone should be punished, it should be me."

"Yes you should be punished," replied the Sorting Hat. "Of all the awful things I've seen at Hogwarts this is by far ranking as one of the worst."

"I will have to punish you, Mr. Black," declared Dumbledore. "Though, I believe you will not be alone in this punishment. You'll have detention for the rest of the year along with Mr. Snape."

Snape looked shocked and appalled. "Me? With him? I didn't even do anything-"

"You went out there, didn't you?" asked James.

"Since when have you listened to anything Mr. Black has told you?" inquired the Sorting Hat. "I was under the impression that you two were enemies. One does not get away with walking into an enemy's trap."

"As the Sorting Hat has said, you should have known better, Mr. Snape," responded Dumbledore. "Now I must ask that all of you take an oath here, right now. None of you are ever to speak to anyone about what happened last night."

"And why shouldn't I?" roared Snape indignantly. "There's a monster in the school!"

"And Mr. Potter saved your life tonight, Mr. Snape. The least you can do to thank him is to respect his friend's secret. If you do mention it to anyone I will have you expelled from the school, understand?" he stated.

Snape remained silent and only gave the tiniest nod to show his agreement. With everything settled, Dumbledore took out a piece of parchment and a quill and had each person sign. Snape stormed out of the room. Sirius went to approach James, but James walked right past him. Lily left the room right after James softly calling, "Potter?" Sirius seemed hurt, but also appeared resigned to the fact that he should expect as much.

Young Master Gryffindor hung about for a bit. "Sir?" he finally inquired.

"Yes?" responded the Headmaster.

"I was wondering if you have heard from my brother," said 'Ric. "I know he left to recruit on the mainland for the Order but-"

"I'm afraid I haven't heard from him either," replied Dumbledore sadly, taking off his glasses. "I shall send for you, though, once I've had word. I have the Prewett brothers out looking for him now."

"Alright," sighed Young Master Gryffindor, but the Sorting Hat could see that this did not sit well with the boy.

"It's not going to be easy, Eric," said Professor Dumbledore. "You saw tonight the hatred that Mr. Snape has for Mr. Lupin. The war, I'm afraid, is invading Hogwarts, but we must do our best not to let it overtake us here. For if it does, then I'm afraid everything is lost."

"I'll do my very best then, sir," stated Young Master Gryffindor. He bid the both of them goodnight, and turned on his heels shutting the door softly behind him.

oOo

_The Sorting Hat had not realized how this night affected everyone around him until much later. He didn't realize this would lead to Snape joining with the Dark Lord over the summer. He didn't realize that Peter Pettigrew had shown that he would indeed one day betray the friends he said he loved like brothers. He didn't realize that Sirius would indeed go mad again when his anger once again overflowed. He didn't realize that Remus would never forgive himself for the act that he never truly committed. He didn't realize that James grew up, though he did notice that Snape never antagonized Snape again. He just acted like Snape didn't exist, which due to the circumstances might have been the best move at the time. He didn't realize that Lily Evans was beginning to fall in love with the boy she once loathed. He also didn't realize how the war would come to explode right in everyone's homes, including Hogwarts…_


	10. Chapter 10: The Trials of Songwriting

**Time for a new chapter! Here's a more cheery one because the last one was a bit heavy and the next two after this will be heavy yet again. Unfortunately I feel as most people do that the First Wizarding War was not funny. Considering it probably occurred during the Marauder's time a Hogwarts that leaves a lot of sad stuff happening in the later years. Here we go!**

**Chapter Ten:**

**The Trials of Songwriting  
**

Things had turned out much quieter as June approached the Sorting Hat. This was a bit deviant from past years, but Sirius Black and Severus Snape were still in detention for the Whomping Willow incident. All of Hogwarts seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at this news. As fond as people were of the Marauders and their shenanigans many staff members and students were often fed up by this time of year. The end of the year had traditionally brought one last prank by the Marauders to cap of the year, but so far there were no whispers of any sort of plan.

This was all fine with the Sorting Hat. For the first time in five years he could actually rehearse his song for the upcoming school year in peace. Writing songs were a difficult enough process in itself. He had perfected the general format of the sorting ceremony song: he would begin by talking about himself or the history of Hogwarts (the version approved by that stupid old witch who censored the Beedle the Bard stories of course) and then move on to describing house characteristics, and finish with instructions on the sorting. On some occasions he had found it necessary to address certain current events in his songs. During the Second World War he added a section to try and cheer up the students' attitudes. He could not just pretend that some of their houses had not been blown up in the air raids. In recent years he found himself addressing current events once more, but this time as a sort of warning to the students. He somehow doubted, though, that his songs could stop the Wizarding War.

Unfortunately the last five years had caused the Sorting Hat to redefine the house descriptions. Most of this was due to the Marauders, but there were others who had contributed to this as well…

_Three Years Prior…_

He was in a bit of a huff because Phineas Nigellus Black had suggested the word pig-headed in his description of Gryffindor house. The Sorting Hat could never say such a thing about his Master Gryffindor's house! It would be insulting his Master's memory. He knew it was the Marauders that caused former Headmaster Black to say such a thing, but the man did not need to take such enjoyment out of telling him this! The Sorting Hat could just as well describe Slytherin house in such rude terms.

"_Or Slytherin perhaps could be the house where you belong_," he sang to himself. "_Those dastardly, evil cowards will always treat their peers wrong_."

He felt a bit better, but it would not solve any problems and only earn himself and Professor Dumbledore several Howlers. If only those Marauders would behave!

There was a knock at the office door. Some of the portraits stirred in their slumber (thankfully Phineas Nigellus was not one of them) but Headmaster Dumbledore did not appear. The Sorting Hat glanced about looking for some sign that he was or was not to answer the door. He did not end up with much of a choice. The door decided to open itself.

In marched a tall seventh year boy with messy chin length blond hair carrying a bizarre looking spyglass with five interchangeable lenses on protruding metal wires. He bent down to examine the floor with his very large blue eyes. The boy wiped it with his index finger and then rubbed it against his thumb. "This room has definitely seen a feather-crested borschnauzle," he announced to no one in particular. The Sorting Hat looked at Fawkes, but the bird only chirped in a confused manner (if you could call it that for the Sorting Hat could not really speak fluent phoenix chirps) and continued to stare at the boy. After racking his brains for a few minutes the Sorting Hat remembered the boy was named Xenophilius Lovegood. He honestly did not know why he had not realized this sooner for Xenophilius truly was one of a kind. It had taken him a little while to place him at the sorting ceremony for at first he thought the boy was a lunatic. However, he discovered after a few moments that his thoughts were just very, _very_ disorganized. This may have explained what the boy was doing in the Headmaster's office without an invitation.

"Pardon me," stated the Sorting Hat. Xenophilius did not reply. He continued looking around the room with the strange spyglass.

"I said pardon me!" exclaimed the Sorting Hat. Once again Xenophilius did not reply. The Sorting Hat was more than a bit insulted at the lack of response. He was the Sorting Hat after all. As far as he knew he was the only talking hat in existence. He could not see why anyone would not want to listen to him speak.

He heard a more timid set of footsteps approach the office, and as he looked up Ben walked into the office. "Um… Xenophilius? I saw you walk up here, and I know you really think that the schnitzel-thing-"

"Borschnauzle, Motto," replied Xenophilius without turning to face the younger boy.

"Right, borsnauzle," said Ben. "I know you think it's up here, but this is the Headmaster's office. I don't know how you even got into here, but-"

"You really use 'but' much too often in your speech patterns," responded Xenophilius Lovegood, finally putting his spyglass down. "No one is going to take you seriously if your always shoving all those 'buts' in their faces. Now you could have replaced the first 'but' with a 'because'-"

"This is not about my grammar! We have time to fix that later!" exclaimed a very exasperated Ben. "We need to get out of here. People might think-"

"Ahem," coughed a high-pitched voice. The Sorting Hat then saw that a sixth year prefect named Dolores Umbridge had entered the room with young Master Gryffindor in tow.

"Can you let go of my ear now?" he asked, obviously uncomfortable and grumpy at having been caught for some sort of offense.

"I found this boy lurking outside, but before I left to report in to Professor Slughorn I heard noises coming from up here," she stated with a huge, fake smile tugging on her face. She pulled 'Ric's ear tighter.

"Ow!"

"So I thought that I might as well check it out and what do we have here? Intruders! Obviously here to steal something from the Headmaster's office."

"We're not stealing anything!" retorted Ben. "We're just-"

"Shh," hissed Xenophilius. He leaned forward towards Umbridge. "We're looking for a feather-crested borschnauzle."

"A what?" inquired Umbridge.

"A feather-crested borschauzle," repeated Xenophilius. "They're about 50 centimeters high, have the head of a warthog only they have red and brown plumage instead of hair, and have four cat-like feet. This here is my assistant."

"I'm not your assistant! Keep me out of this!" shouted Ben.

"That can't be real," snapped Umbridge.

The Sorting Hat could not help himself. As wrong as he knew it would be he wanted to intervene. Everyone in the school- students, teachers, portraits, and ghosts- knew Dolores Umbridge was way too easy of a target. Plus the girl was for the most part very unpleasant. A little antagonism every 1000 years should not be too much to ask for, he mused. "But they are, miss."

"What?" she gasped.

"They are indeed real. I remember once when I was a younger hat that I came across one in the Forbidden Forest. It was a rather frightful sight. The creature wanted to take me to its den and rip me to shreds for bedding for its cubs. If the caretaker at that time had not arrived any sooner I would have been done for," he said, adding as much emotion as he could muster. He noted with pleasure that her face had become rather pale.

"Cool," breathed young Master Gryffindor. "So like that thing behind the Headmaster's desk?"

Everyone whipped their heads over towards the desk. Fawkes had his head cocked slightly to the side as he stared at the strange creature. Sure enough it had the head of a warthog, red and brown plumage, and four cat-like feet with very sharp claws. It growled at the prefect, and before he knew it Umbridge had turned on her heels and run screaming out of the Headmaster's office.

"This is most excellent!" exclaimed Xenophilius, blue eyes wide in amazement. "Such a beautiful creature. The Daily Prophet will have to take my article this time!" He skipped out of the office singing about the beauty of the feather-crested borschnauzle.

Ben stood with his mouth agape. The boy could not believe that this rare magical creature had appeared out of the middle of nowhere. The Sorting Hat could not believe it himself. He had not even heard of a feather-crested borschnauzle before this afternoon. 'Ric looked above the creature's head.

"That was rather cruel to Xenophilius, you lot," he said. There was a movement of air and then James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew appeared from under the invisibility cloak. James and Sirius immediately fell on the floor, rolling with laughter. Peter was lightly wheezing. The Sorting Hat supposed that it was Peter's form of laughter.

"You guys let that thing in?" asked Ben.

"Why you rapscallions! I'll have you expelled this time! You've scared me half to death with that-that thing!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

"We didn't even need to let it in," replied James between stitches. "We just dressed up Filch's cat."

"Bloody hell! You guys better change her back," responded young Master Gryffindor. "Though I must admit the costume is nice work."

"We didn't use a costume," said Peter proudly. "James transfigured her face."

"HOW COULD YOU THREE DO SUCH A THING!" hollered the Sorting Hat. "THAT'S NOT ONLY DISGUSTING, BUT ALSO CRUEL! I'LL CALL PETA OR THE SOCIETY FOR WIZARDING ANIMALS ON YOU LOT! SEE HOW FUNNY IT IS THEN!"

"Alright, alright, hold your threads," stated James. "We're changing her back."

"But man, that Xenophilius," snorted Sirius. "I'm not sure I'd call him the wisest. Eccentric would do it."

_Back to the Present…_

Yes, Xenophilius Lovegood had definitely changed the definition of Ravenclaw House. No doubt about it. Then there was always the issue of young Master Gryffindor's elder brother.

_Two Years Prior…_

Randolph was not a member of Gryffindor House in the sense of having been sorted into the physical manifestation within the walls of Hogwarts. He was, however, a son of the Gryffindor line, and the older son for that matter. After sorting the unfortunate boy into Slytherin House he suffered a migraine for the next week because Salazar kept chuckling in the back of his mind. It was a most unfortunate circumstance that as the Sorting Hat he was subject to listening to the mindset of the Founders until the end of the world. That was a little fact he kept to himself because the only thing that could possibly understand would be the phoenix Fawkes, but the bird could not even talk back to pity his circumstance. Then the portraits of the former Headmasters would hear and then they would want to know EVERYTHING the mindset of the Founders had to say. That would not only be unbearable but absolutely annoying.

So why was Randolph, a member of Slytherin House, helping him do this? "You know you could get into trouble for this," stated the Sorting Hat. "I don't even want to be doing this, but I've got no choice."

"It's absolutely self preservation," replied the brown-haired seventh year, while his left eye twitched. The Sorting Hat sniffed to himself. That was the signature Gryffindor eye twitch: it meant that Randolph was obviously lying. He had seen that eye twitch in Master Gryffindor and his sons as well. Obviously the boy was not willing to share his motives.

Randolph peeked out from their hiding spot behind Ravenclaw tower. The iced over lake shone under the bright rays of the midwinter sun. This winter had been very hard on everyone due to the over abundance of snow that had fallen from the sky during the past month. Practically the entire school was present on the grounds. That was everyone except the teachers. The Sorting Hat was astounded by the lack of supervision at the present moment. He knew that Mr. Filch was too busy inside constantly mopping the Entrance Hall, but some teacher should have been present outside.

The Great Snow War would not have started if there had been an adult. He had been glancing outside just twenty minutes ago from his safe window sill perch in the Headmaster's office when he saw Sirius Black begin gesticulating wildly at his younger brother. Everything had gone downhill from that in a matter of minutes as the Gryffindor verses Slytherin snowball fight began. The other houses, of course, would not be outdone so now it was a four way fight. First years lay about the ground, ducking and covering their faces to avoid getting snow in their eyes. The Sorting Hat hated snow almost as much as he hated fire and scissors. Snow reminded him of water and water reminded him of laundry machines…

He shivered and moved further into Randolph's bag. The seventh year had barged into the Headmaster's office shortly after the fight began, but instead of looking for Dumbledore the boy had snatched him from the window sill (he was really missing the nice, warm, safe window sill right now) and ran out here. He was going to protest, but then the boy had laid the cold facts in front of him: the Marauders were going to build a giant ice castle on top of the lake. The Sorting Hat would have accepted a medium-sized snow fort, but a castle was just too much. First off, it would be obvious to some professor somewhere that something amiss was occurring. Second, it could very easily fall over and severely injure a lot of students. Third, it was just plain stupid and gave Gryffindor an unfair advantage in the Great Snow War.

That castle was going to have to come down. There was no other solution. The only issue was finding the right way to go about it. "A fire spell will be too dangerous," said the Sorting Hat. "Something- I mean someone- could get burned."

"That's true. Collapsing one side might be even worse though," responded Randolph. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a while.

Unfortunately time was up. With a great rumble and shrieks emitted from many students the Castle de Marauders rose up on the lake, casting a dark shadow on the embankments of the other three houses. "BWAHAHAHAHAHA! TRY STOPPING US NOW REGULUS!" bellowed Sirius Black. He pointed to some third year boys on the castle behind him. "OPEN FIRE!" A loud boom told the Sorting Hat that the Marauders had successfully transfigured a snowball-cannon. The ice ball missed the Slytherin embankment by centimeters and then demolished the Ravenclaw fort.

"Sirius!" called out Remus Lupin. He was standing in front of the draw bridge. "Isn't this taking it a bit far? You're going to kill somebody carrying on like this!"

"NOTHING IS TOO FAR WHEN IT COMES TO SIBLING RIVALRIES AND HOUSE GLORY! OPEN FIRE AGAIN!"

Then the Sorting Hat saw _it_. It was that look that Master Gryffindor gave every time some brilliant- a.k.a dangerous- idea came into his mind. Seeing it on Randolph's face terrified the Sorting Hat more than he would have thought. It might have actually been scarier than seeing it on Master Gryffindor's face. "Oh no. Don't you start with that look! I _know _that look and that look means trouble. That look means that you're going to do something so incredibly stupid that you'll end up in the Hospital Wing for a month so that you can re-grow all your bones or remove slug-ooze from all the blisters you've somehow grown. Let's just stop before we get started!" shouted the Sorting Hat.

But Randolph was not listening. The boy just started walking forward through the flying snow and ice like it was a casual stroll through a sunny meadow. The Sorting Hat ducked further into the bag. "Why are you doing this?" he hollered.

"For the glory of course," he drawled, left eye twitching. The Sorting Hat was rather fed up with this front by now.

Randolph reached the base of the castle and pointed his wand down at the ice around it. He muttered some choice words, and the Sorting Hat heard a terrible cracking sound. The ice around the castle had a clean circle carved around it. He knew ice normally floated, but an ice castle full of snow and Gryffindor students…

"You're cruel," breathed the Sorting Hat.

"Not really," replied Randolph. "I could've used a fire spell."

The castle began to sink into the lake. "ABANDON SHIP!" cried James Potter. Windows appeared on all sides of the castle and students jumped out onto the partially frozen lake. Peter Pettigrew slipped as soon as he hit the ice and slid headfirst into the Hufflepuff embankment. He was immediately and mercilessly pelted with snowballs. James Potter landed on his feet and looked up at his best friend. Sirius was standing proudly on top of the sinking castle with a Gryffindor flag. "SIRIUS! GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

"NO!" bellowed his friend in return. "I SHALL GO DOWN TO THE DEPTHS WITH MY CASTLE!"

"SIRIUS THAT'S JUST STUPID! REMUS! DO SOMETHING!"

"No way," said Lupin. "I'm not taking an ice bath just because Sirius _wants_ to go swimming."

The castle began sinking at a faster pace and a big wave splashed out of the hole in the lake. James and Remus were swept up by it and flung into the snow bank lining the lake. The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs abandoned their forts a bit too late and were splashed as well. Before Sirius could fall into the water, though, a giant tentacle reached around the castle and grabbed the boy. After a couple of angry shakes Sirius was released into a rather large pile of snow on the shore.

The tentacle returned to the depths of the lake as the tip of the castle sunk below the surface. Gryffindor students skidded across what remained of the ice back towards the castle. The Great Snow War was over.

He saw Ben and young Master Gryffindor walking onto the lake towards Randolph when the ice beneath them began to crack. The Sorting Hat almost cried out, but then he saw in his peripheral vision Randolph's arm grasp the front of their robes and he flung them to the side away from the ice.

"Ouch! Why'd you do that?" shouted 'Ric.

Randolph walked over to the younger boys and stared them down. Young Master Gryffindor looked a bit sheepish, and Ben only looked away. "Don't just walk out on broken ice like an idiot!" the older boy snapped.

"Sorry," apologized Ben.

"So you do care about us," stated 'Ric, raising an eyebrow. "You couldn't help but step into the fray when you thought everyone was going to get hurt or in trouble from all this stupidity."

"No," said Randolph. His left eye twitched. "Put a hat on before you catch the flu." The Sorting Hat felt Randolph throw his bag to his brother.

Ben and 'Ric stared at him in the bag. "I'm not wearing it," stated young Master Gryffindor.

"IT?" he roared. "I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I AM NOT AN IT! I AM"

"James?"

"Dad!" called the leader of the Marauders. The Sorting Hat looked over towards the trouble maker and saw none other than Charlus Potter walking over to his son. It was odd for the head auror to be here on a winter afternoon. Surely he did come to the school more often than most parents due to multiple meetings with Dumbledore and other members of the staff over the issue of James' behavior, but from what he could recall there had been no usual set up of tea for the occasion. He had not known that Charlus Potter was even in the school. The Sorting Hat saw other older witches and wizards walking out the front door and chatting amongst themselves. He looked up to 'Ric to see what the boy made of it. Young Master Gryffindor, however, was not looking at the pair or the exiting people, so the Sorting Hat followed his gaze. Randolph stood frozen on the lake with some unreadable expression on his face, his gaze locked on the two Potters.

"Randy are you okay?" asked Ben tentatively. Randolph seemed to snap out of whatever thoughts were swirling about his head, and he almost jogged over to his brother. He forced the younger of the ice and practically started dragging him towards the castle.

"Hey! What are you doing?" yelled 'Ric.

"Don't look back," hissed the elder brother. "Don't look back at any of them. Definitely do not talk to them. We are to remain invisible."

"But it's just James and his dad-"

"I don't want to hear anything about it. You're not to talk to them, is that understood?"

Ben picked up the bag the Sorting Hat currently occupied and rushed after the two brothers.

_Again in the present…_

Yup. Randolph was a weird one. He'd totally blown out the evil theory in the Sorting Hat's mind. He wasn't even sure if the "self" belonged in front of "self-preservation" any more. Nor was Gryffindor totally heroic and good. The Sorting Hat was always finding new definitions of Hufflepuff because he honestly didn't know how to describe the house. Lady Helga had always been so… good, true, pure of heart. But no one was truly pure of heart. Perhaps loyal? Yes, he would stick with the word loyal. It covered for those led astray by Voldemort and others like him.

Ravenclaw could now be devoted to learning. It wasn't necessarily a characteristic like loyal, brave, and evil, but it would have to do. No it sounded stupid. Wise could be eccentric sometimes, so wise it would be. If only those Marauders had not thrown so much doubt into the name of Gryffindor…

_Last year on a dark and stormy night as he was feeling rather moody and cliché…_

He'd had enough. Dumbledore should have known better than to leave him in charge of their detention. He honestly should have cancelled detention tonight for his secret little Order meeting (one of Hogwarts' many secrets that everyone naturally knew). But apparently brats had to be taught lessons, so here he was in front of James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter as one of the three busily scribbled down lines. The other three were being annoying… as always…

"But really! I think the most effective learning strategy would be to teach the goblin wars with sock puppets," stated Sirius adamantly.

"No, that's just stupid," replied James. "Next thing I know you'll say that we should teach the history of Hogwarts with sock puppets."

He nearly gagged. There was no way he could allow the Marauders to taint such a noble history with dirty laundry. It was just indecent.

"That's ingenious! I'll start on the script tonight!"

This was it. He couldn't stand it anymore. First the dumb questions ("Just _how_ many lines are we supposed to write? Couldn't we write one less?") and the bickering ("No I will not share my chocolate!" "You're a pig, Peter!" "Am not!" "Are too!") he was going loony. There was only one solution left. The fire in the grate behind his current position looked suddenly warm and inviting. He took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and jumped.

Before he hit the flames he felt a hand grab his pointed tip. "Bloody hell! Don't do that!" yelped James Potter. He opened his eyes and stared the scrawny fifteen year old in the face.

"You try listening to stupid bickering for hundreds of years and then we'll see who's trying to jump!" he barked back.

To his astonishment the room was completely silent. James put him down on the Headmaster's desk and went to his piece of parchment and started writing down lines. Sirius and Peter followed suit. Remus sat and waited for his friends to finish. After an hour and a half they were done. The Marauders filed quietly out of the room, James leaving last, and the Sorting Hat could just see a blister forming what looked like a nasty burn.

_Back to the present…_

No. No matter what Phineas Nigellus Black or anyone else said about the Marauders, they could be brave when they had to be. It would be ridiculous to expect people to be brave or wise or evil all the time. He could still call Gryffindor House brave. The Sorting Hat would just have to pair it with something else too like daring. Daring seemed like a good word to cover brave and reckless. Now as for Slytherin House…

He thought about Randolph, the son of Gryffindor house that he hardly knew. The young man who had held the title for thirteen years now, and the boy he had sorted into Slytherin House. He was not evil. The Sorting Hat supposed few of them were truly evil. They were a high strung bunch, but still human… they were human…

"Human flesh is sometimes considered weak," he mumbled to himself. "It naturally causes them to be careful. Careful wouldn't do it though. Self-preservation? Yes, that does sound a bit better. They're also driven. Oh, that was a very good choice of words. Both are open to interpretation."

With that he opened his mouth and began to sing.

**Sorry guys. This chapter is already much longer than I anticipated, so I will not be writing a song in this one. XD However, you can be looking forward to an update soon because I've already finished the next chapter! Yay! Reviews are lovely. :)**


	11. Chapter 11: The Snake and the Lion

**Felt like updating again. My original plan was to take it up through the battle of Hogwarts, but I'm thinking about going beyond that. Any opinions on the matter?**

**Chapter Eleven:**

**The Snake and the Lion**

The world had turned to madness in the last year. To begin with, the Wizarding World was now officially in a legally binding sense at war. It was all over the headlines, but no one seemed to care. The murders, disappearances, and fighting had been going on for years. Declaring war on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not going to change anything. In fact, he seemed madder than ever and even more people were dying now. Muggles seemed to notice this change the most since it was now their towns being razed in the middle of the night. The Prime Minister was threatening to take this to the United Nations if the violence went much further. Not only would this break the Statue of Secrecy (if anyone believed him) but then the war could spread to other nations. The Sorting Hat was not sure he wanted to find out what would happen if Wizarding society was exposed.

Many Slytherins oddly enough didn't seem to care. They were under the opinion that Voldemort, or the wayward Tom Riddle as the Sorting Hat like to call him, was going to win. Pretty soon the Statue of Secrecy would be broken anyhow and the wizards would be ruling the world as they should since they were the "most-fit". He was of the opinion that Wizards were only as fit as others if they could not come up with their own theories. Muggles already knew Social Darwinism did not work. Gryffindors were in a rebellion to this view. They fully supported the Order of the Phoenix, a secret organization of witches and wizards who fought Voldemort. It was one of Hogwarts best kept secrets; everyone knew Dumbledore was its head.

The professors often had to break up makeshift duels between Slytherins and Gryffindors in the hall. Almost half of them involved Sirius Black. James Potter probably would have also been part of this if it wasn't for the whole of Hogwarts being turned upside down. James was Head Boy this year. The captain of the Marauders, one of Hogwarts' most notorious pranksters, was in charge of discipline. He honestly did not know what Dumbledore was thinking.

"How could you do such a thing?" yelled the Sorting Hat. "James Potter? Head Boy? Do you want the school to implode?"

"This is a recipe for disaster, Headmaster Dumbledore," spluttered Phineas Nigellus Black. "Only any other boy in his dorm would have been more unfit."

"I personally thought that one boy- what's his name- Richard?" stated Armando Dippet while scratching his painted beard.

"Eric," replied the Sorting Hat curtly.

"Yes. Eric. He seemed much more like the Head Boy type," finished Armando Dippet.

"I beg to disagree," responded Phineas Nigellus Black, sitting forward in his painted chair. "I know that he's not the same as the others. He and that Benjamin boy are always off practicing the most odd and dangerous looking magic. They can't possibly be true wizards."

The portraits seemed to mumble amongst themselves at this comment. "I thought _they_ were not allowed in the school," hissed one.

"How disgraceful!" exclaimed another.

"Everyone please settle down!" demanded Professor Dumbledore. The walls silenced their side conversations. "I can assure you all that I looked at all possible candidates. While there were many students in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that would have made fine Head Boys I would like to remind you all that we are in a state of crisis. I need someone who has the courage to stand up to anyone whom Voldemort may be recruiting." There was a visible cringe around the room. "This also requires the person to be almost fool-hardy, but mostly brave: someone not afraid to face death. I believe that James has shown this quality most out of all of the students in the seventh year. He's also shown himself to be a natural leader, and most importantly, he has shown compassion even to an enemy who might have died due to another's decision."

"He only saved Severus Snape because Mr. Lupin would have been discovered if he hadn't!" shouted Phineas Nigellus Black.

"If he honestly didn't care about Mr. Snape, he wouldn't have saved him, Phineas," said Dumbledore. "While he might have thought about Mr. Lupin afterwards his motive was definitely to save a life. One doesn't rush into the face of certain death in order to keep a secret. As for Eric, I knew you and many others would have held objections to that appointment, but I feel his attention is elsewhere this year. I personally find that he is a very capable student and a very talented young wizard. His friend has also shown this talent, though his wit is much sharper and more calculating. If Wizarding society was less prejudiced, then I could see Ben maybe becoming Minister of Magic someday."

Some of the portraits gasped. Others nodded their heads in agreement while still others like Phineas Nigellus began yelling at the Headmaster. "What about Eric?" asked the Sorting Hat quietly.

"It's not his time yet," replied Dumbledore. "Plus if you would really pay attention you would see he's more intent on seeing his brother take the title."

"But his brother was in Slytherin!" retorted the Sorting Hat.

"That does not make any difference. He's still the head of the house of Gryffindor," said Dumbledore. "I really wish that you had taken the time to get to know Randolph a little better. He's every bit as brave as his brother. He just shows it in a different way. As for Ben, you will see."

"You better not be subscribing to _Prophecies Today!_" grumbled the Sorting Hat. The Headmaster chuckled, but did not say anything in response. Instead he turned to the room to once again quiet the portraits.

oOo

The Sorting Hat did see although it was quite some time later. In fact it was the weekend of one of the most anticipated yet unexpected things in Hogwarts' modern history: James Potter and Lily Evans were going on a date. James had been asking her out since their second year at Hogwarts, and for the first time she said yes. The Fat Lady had fainted in her portrait (serves her right) upon receiving the news. It had taken Violet nearly a half hour to revive her. The Sorting Hat laughed about this most of the afternoon, so much that he almost forgot to add a word to his new song. He was wondering if it would be possible to get out and paint a mustache on her in the middle of the night without her or Filch noticing him.

The only people who seemed downright angry about this were Severus Snape and Sirius Black. Severus had always fancied Lily, but she only had thought of him as a friend. The Sorting Hat had never mentioned this to anybody, but he thought that it was plainly obvious. If one just looked at Snape, one could see that he had followed Lily around like a pathetic little puppy dog, offering to carry her books and all that nonsense. Sirius, on the other hand, saw this as coming between his and James' friendship. James and Sirius had always gone to Hogsmeade together. Ever since his Great Uncle Algie had signed the form for him as a birthday present (and before that under James' invisibility cloak) the two of them had not missed a trip together. This was his first time going alone, and James had made it clear that things were to remain that way. Sirius Black was determined that this tradition should not go down without a fight.

This was why the Sorting Hat had meant to stay in the Headmaster's office far, far away from whatever Sirius was plotting. The only problem was that he slept through Friday and on Saturday was thoroughly convinced that it was indeed Friday. He noticed that one of his patches was loose, so he began to journey down towards Hogsmaede. It was a windy day, so travel was easy. As soon as the office window blew open, scattering the Headmaster's forms all over the place, the Sorting Hat hopped off his shelf and asked Fawkes for a lift. After Fawkes dropped him off in front of the fabric store he realized all too late that it was Hogsmeade weekend. He cursed himself and the distant retreating silhouette of the phoenix.

It was only the second Hogsmeade weekend of the year, so the street was bustling with third year students anxious to sport their new privilege. Luckily, there was no sign of either the Potter-Evans date or Sirius Black, so the Sorting Hat made a new plan: he would sneak into the store and quickly buy his fabric (he sure hoped that the witch behind the counter still accepted thrupennies) and then shuffle over to the Hogs Head and let loose Aberforth's goats so he could hijack one and ride it back up to the castle gates. The first part was more complicated than he thought. The witch was not accepting thrupennies like he hoped so he rustled about until a piece of gold fell out from inside and the witch gave him much more fabric than he would have liked. As he was dragging it out of the store he felt someone pick him up.

"Unhand me, you-" he shouted.

"Well that was a rather callous greeting, wouldn't you say Remus?" asked an all too familiar voice. As he turned he came face to face with Sirius Black. Of course he would have the rotten kind of luck to run into the one person he did not want to see that day.

"Mr. Black, if you would kindly put me down I would much appreciate it. I have many things to do and you're stepping on my fabric! I just bought that you know!" he exclaimed.

"Don't you want some help?" questioned Remus. He went and picked up the roll of fabric. "How much did you buy? It looks like you could make an army of hats with this much fabric"

"There was a misunderstanding," huffed the Sorting Hat. "Though I do appreciate your kindness I really must be moving along. I have a goat to catch."

"What?" inquired Peter Pettigrew. Remus and Sirius also looked quite bewildered at this last statement.

"Hey 'Ric! I've found them!" called a voice. Ben came jogging down the street towards their group.

"Quick! We must get away," hissed Sirius.

"It's too late now," said Remus. "It's not like they haven't seen us. Hey, Ben."

The boy was now as tall as Sirius and Remus, although a year younger. He turned a very focused brown gaze at the Sorting Hat. "I hope you weren't plotting something with them."

"Me? With them! Are you mad? I honestly want nothing to do with whatever is going on. I just want to take a nice quiet goat ride back up to the castle," he responded grumpily.

"That really made no sense, unless you're the one always letting Aberforth's goats loose," stated Ben. The Sorting Hat froze. He had been caught! "I see… I'm sure he'll be glad to find out what's been going on for the past however many years. You guys promised James you wouldn't come."

"Not exactly…" drawled Sirius. "We just promised that we wouldn't come near."

"I think in the village qualifies as near," said young master Gryffindor curtly. He walked up to the group. "I honestly can't believe you'd do this to your best friend."

"That's exactly it! He's my best friend. Doesn't he understand that Hogsmeade weekends are what we do together?" bellowed Sirius.

"You guys do everything together," replied Ben.

"That's not the point! It's just that since she has said yes it's been all about Evans! I don't even know if he's still the same James," hollered Sirius, hitting the wall of the fabric store. The owner came outside and yelled at them, threatening to take back the Sorting Hat's copious amounts of fabric. She stormed back inside after Remus apologized for his friend's behavior. "That's why I've got to prank him… we're Marauders… for better or for worse…"

"That's the shittiest reason I've ever heard," said 'Ric. "You could've just told him how you felt."

"Don't forget what happened the last time you let your emotions carry you away," stated Remus quietly. Sirius looked at his friend and then looked away, his face turning red with shame at remembering the Willow incident.

"Fine, but I still want to go to Honeyduke's and Zonko's," grumbled Sirius. Peter and Remus looked relieved.

"That's fine with me!" exclaimed young master Gryffindor. "I've never been there before."

The three Marauders looked flabbergasted. "You've _never_ been to Honeyduke's or Zonko's before?" asked Sirius in disbelief.

"Hell, I don't think Ben and I've ever been the Hogsmeade," announced 'Ric. Peter gasped in dismay.

"But it's right here," said Remus. "What do you guys do in your spare time? Play Quidditch?"

"Read?" inquired Sirius as though the word was bitter on his tongue.

"There's a lot to do on the grounds. It's just better that we stay there…" replied Ben. He looked at his friend in a way that said 'we shouldn't be here right now.'

The Sorting Hat straightened himself up. "Hogsmeade is part of the Hogwarts experience. I myself know just about everything there is to know about the place, so I can show you around as long as you return me to the castle later this afternoon." Young master Gryffindor agreed, although Ben looked quite uncomfortable with the fact.

oOo

Peter munched on a chocolate bar as they reached the edge of town. "Here are the limits of Hogsmeade, beyond which is only mountains and caves," declared the Sorting Hat.

"Are there dragons in the caves?" inquired young master Gryffindor.

"Merlin no! Not for a long time," he responded.

"But there's still a chance…"

"We are _NOT_ going up there. Do you understand?" he replied. 'Ric's curiosity about many of the places around Hogsmeade was going to get him killed. The back alleys, the Shrieking Shack, and now the mountains… it was so obvious that he was a Gryffindor.

"Hey 'Ric, is that your brother?" questioned Remus. Everyone looked up to one of the mountain paths and sure enough there was a man in a dark traveling cloak looking very much like Randolph walking upwards into no man's land.

"Yeah, I think it is," said young Master Gryffindor as though he found it strange himself. "I haven't seen him since he left school. Hey! Randy!" The man did not turn around. Young master Gryffindor, as any true member of the Gryffindor family, proceeded to do the only logical thing: he began running after the man.

"Eric!" yelled Ben. "What are you doing?"

"I've got to see if it is really him!" responded young master Gryffindor.

"You can't do that!" cried out the Sorting Hat. "What if it isn't him?"

"It's better than not knowing," replied 'Ric. He continued along his chosen path.

"Shit," said Ben. "I'm going to have to follow him. Could you guys take the Sorting Hat back up to the school? And maybe send one of the teachers this way. I honestly don't know what to expect."

"Hey, he's our dorm mate. We should take care of this," stated Sirius. "He stopped me from doing something stupid earlier. I should at least return the favor. Besides, the Sorting Hat can just hijack a goat."

"Now listen here. I'm not getting dumped at the city limits-" he responded indignantly.

"Well I guess we're all going," decided Sirius. He took off with the Sorting Hat in tow. No one seemed to protest for his sake, so he came up with some of his own.

"I swear! Put me down! Do you know who I am? I am the Sorting Hat! I once rod on the head of Godric Gryffindor himself! I'm the oldest talking hat in the world and the only one that can think! If you tear me through the middle then I am lost, and you'll never know many things. Hogwarts will cease to exist as before for there will be no houses! You really are a low down vagrant, Sirius Black. First you want to go date crashing and now you're running along as if I'm just a kite. I'll let you know that I am not a kite. You only wish that you were as noble and ancient as me! Noble and most ancient house of Black, my rim! There wasn't even a house of Black back when I was created. You are one son-"

"Of a bitch?" asked Sirius. "I know that already. My mum made sure I wouldn't forget it. Did you know my initials are S.O.B.? I don't think it's a coincidence."

When they reached the top of the path they saw young master Gryffindor hiding behind some tall rocks. They ducked behind there, but unfortunately the Sorting Hat could not see what was happening. From the way they were all positioned he could tell that they were watching something.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," whispered 'Ric.

"We couldn't let you have all the fun," Sirius replied. "So is it your brother?"

"Yeah, it is," said young master Gryffindor. "It looks like there's to be some sort of rendezvous here." Sure enough the Sorting Hat heard several pops of apparation. He really wished someone would put him on their head so he could see something. Then again he'd be in the prime line of danger since he could be easily spotted…

_A really, really, really long time ago…_

The idea to transport an entire school of young witches and wizards was not as easy as it had sounded. They were already on their third day of the trip and they had not even reached the Irish shoreline. Lord Salazar had suggested flight, but Lady Rowena (the only one with a level head it seemed besides the Great Queen Maeve- Merlin rest her soul) had shot that suggestion down with the obvious fact that they'd be an open target. The only way to accomplish this great feat would be to make an underground tunnel that led out into the forest whilst someone else distracted any potential aggressors. After a pull of newt tails Rowena ended up with the short one; she would be the distraction. Master Gryffindor was severely disappointed and insisted on going instead, however, Lady Helga pointed out that it would be no good for a distraction to be too bold. He would just end up injured by the end of the first day anyhow. Master Gryffindor was forced to accept his position as a guide with Lady Helga while Lord Salazar prepared a fleet for escort and travel across the water.

"Are we almosteth there yet?" asked another student for what must have been the fifteen hundredth time. The Sorting Hat could feel Master Gryffindor's eye twitching under his brim.

"Musteth they always asketh that?" he hissed to Lady Helga. She herself seemed to almost be at wits end. She didn't answer Master Gryffindor's question and instead looked ahead into the forest.

"The trees are thinning outeth," she stated. "We are almosteth out of this unending forest." The students emitted a cheer but Lady Helga put a finger up to her lips to silence them. The Sorting Hat could not help from flipping his brim a bit as well. This only served to annoy Master Gryffindor. "However, we cannot be certaineth that the enemy has noteth gone ahead us us to prepare a trapeth. We musteth send a scout ahead."

She looked to Master Gryffindor who appeared overjoyed at this development. The Sorting Hat wanted to groan. Of course they still had to risk their necks on the most mundane jobs. He didn't have any choice but to let Master Gryffindor take the scouting position. He was the only fully trained wizard in the group, and he had much better eyesight than Lady Helga.

He rushed crouching through the forest like a lion, eyes looking everywhere for aggressors and prey. Lady Helga had been correct about the forest. After about fifty giant footprint-sized steps they reached the very edge of the forest. The coastline was just below. A gentle current was lapping the shore like a small dog. All was quiet. The Sorting Hat sighed to himself in relief. That was when the arrow pierced his fabric.

"Oh Agrippa's longesteth knuckle hairs! I have beeneth shot!" cried out the Sorting Hat. Master Gryffindor ducked out from beneath and began shooting spells at their attackers while the Sorting Hat continued to curse. "May Merlin's ghost hexeth thy bottoms with bat-boogies and dragon pox! Just you waiteth! I shallt cometh at thou in the middle of the nighteth like the cloak of Death! I shallt teareth out thy hair and weave it together into a patch and weareth it over this ugly wound thou hast giveth me!"

"Amazing!" cried out Master Gryffindor. "How hast thou seeneth me?"

"That hateth," proclaimed his opponent. "'Tis more obvious than thy red cloak!"

_Meanwhile Behind the Rocks…_

Yes, it was best he stay out of sight. While he was sure Randolph would not shoot him or at least apologize if he accidentally did he did not want to take any chances. The Sorting Hat was not even sure who Randolph was meeting all the way up in the mountains.

"What a strange group of creeps," muttered Peter, still slightly out of breath from their hike up the mountainside. "Just look at them all. Their clothes look even worse than Moony's after the full moon- oh, sorry Remus." Peter flushed as Remus gave him a dirty look for the part about his clothes. Remus was very proud of his tweed and overly wooly sweaters, even if one item had to be sacrificed every month.

"I've got to agree with you Wormtail," said Sirius. "Those robes look ancient. What's your brother doing mixing with these types?"

"I don't know," mumbled young master Gryffindor, although the Sorting Hat and 'Ric both knew perfectly well that among certain circles these kinds of people were completely normal.

"Shh! I think they're going to speak," hissed Remus.

"I suppose that you must be the Lord Randolph who has called us all here today," declared the first voice. "I am Lord Sebastian from the south."

"I am Lord Wenceslas from the west," stated a second voice.

"I am Lord Nolan from the north," said a third.

"And I am Lord Elvendork from the east," announced a fourth voice. Sirius had to stifle a snicker.

"But where is his Lordship Lysander?" asked Randolph. For some reason the Sorting Hat was sure he had heard this name before.

"I don't think I've ever been to a meeting where he has been on time," replied the man who had called himself Lord Sebastian.

"Don't be so judgmental, Sebastian," retorted the third voice that apparently belonged to a man called Lord Nolan. "He has to travel the farthest of all of us. You know that the Ministry would love to get their hands on him."

"Indeed they would. I suppose we shall just have to move forward then," said Randolph. "My lords, I call you hear today to discuss the current state of warfare in the Wizarding World."

"Of course they're at war," interrupted Lord Wenceslas. "When people have that much power for almost 700 years they are bound to go to war over it at some point. I honestly don't understand how they did not see this coming."

"Somehow I doubt that's the point Lord Randolph is trying to get to," stated Lord Elvendork. "What is it you ask of us then?"

"Lord Voldemort, as he has chosen to call himself, is gaining power every day. He's persuaded the giants, the werewolves, and the vampires to join his side," continued Randolph. "The very world we live in right now is at stake. I come as a messenger for the Order of the Phoenix asking for your people to join our cause."

"No offense, but I'm not a huge fan of the world we live in right now," interrupted Lord Wenceslas once again.

"Will you stop interrupting!" exclaimed Lord Nolan.

"I'm just making a point!" retorted Lord Wenceslas. "The Ministry doesn't like us already. I don't see what will change. It's still wizards in charge."

"I'm not sure that is the best move for the people of the south," stated Lord Sebastian. "Death Eaters heavily roam the countryside there. We do not wish to become involved in the affairs of wizards."

"I don't think it's the affair of only wizards anymore," responded Lord Elvendork. "The giants don't discriminate whose homes they trample upon. Nor do the werewolves or vampires care if they attack a non-wizard."

"Wait. Do they mean that they are not wizards?" inquired Remus.

"I suppose so," said Ben. He shifted his stance a bit. The Sorting Hat could almost see the cogs trying desperately to work in the boy's mind, trying to formulate a plan that would get the Marauders to leave.

"But they apparated here," Sirius whispered to Ben. "How can they not be wizards?"

"From the sources the Order's spies have in the ranks of the Death Eaters we have found that Voldemort has no intention of extending an invitation to his forces to the mage populations," announced Randolph. "He fully intends on wiping all of you out once he gains complete power."

As the lords began arguing anew, Peter turned to young master Gryffindor. "What's a mage?" he asked.

"How should I know?" questioned 'Ric back.

"Your brother seems to know," replied Peter.

"I haven't seen my brother in three years," responded young master Gryffindor. "I suppose he met them along the way."

"You're lying," said Sirius.

"What makes you say that?" inquired Eric.

"Your left eye always twitches when you're lying," stated Sirius. Eric looked away back at their lookout spot. One of Ben's fists clenched in his lap, but nothing else gave away how shaken he was at the Marauders' observations.

"Well obviously we must pick a side now!" declared Lord Nolan.

"That will only aggravate him more," announced Lord Sebastian. "I still think it's best that we remain neutral as long as we can."

"He is still stronger than we are!" yelled Lord Wenceslas. "He is one of us!"

"But he does not know that yet," replied Lord Elvendork. "He must never find out what it means to be the Heir of Slytherin."

"But what would you all say on your own assuming that Voldemort never finds out about his potential?" inquired Randolph.

"I cannot give my word," said Lord Sebastian.

"We must fight ourselves," stated Lord Nolan.

"We should not get involved," decreed Lord Wenceslas.

"I would like to offer support," responded Lord Elvendork, "but I must wait to see Lysander's take on this."

"I was afraid we'd get hung up on that fact," sighed Randolph. "Where is he?"

"It was foolish of you to meet in broad daylight," hissed a high pitch voice. The Sorting Hat could feel all the fibers of his fabric wind closer together in knots. From behind a rock across the way stepped out a man in a black cloak. His face was paler than anyone's skin really ought to be, his eyes were red, and his nose was reduced to a snake-like slit. The Sorting Hat did not know when the formation behind the rock had changed so that he could now plainly view the circle in which the lords were standing, but he could see the one that everyone seemed to fear now: Lord Voldemort.

Randolph had pulled out his wand, but the others appeared in strange fight stances the Sorting Hat had not seen before. Or maybe he had seen them, but it had been a long time and there were slight changes to the stances that suggested years of perfection and hiding in nature. "I was unaware that someone such as yourself could travel in the open… and without guards," replied Randolph.

Voldemort stared him in the eyes for quite some time before speaking again. "You're stronger than most of the Order's other pawns I've met. Others would have spilled their minds out before me at this point. Unfortunately, you seem to have information that I need. Seeing as you all are scum, I shall just have to rip it from you."

Someone had the decency to pull him down before sparks began flying in the rock arena. Peter was huddled like a baby cradling his head in his hands while the others seemed to have lain down on their stomachs to try and avoid any curses that could come through the cracks. "We need to get out of here," Ben hollered over the noise.

"Are you crazy? We'll get hit!" Sirius shouted back.

"But they'll probably start throwing rocks soon, and then they'll see us," yelled Ben.

"You're kidding!" exclaimed Remus. The earth, however, began to shake in disagreement. Ben motioned for the others to follow him back behind the rocks into the passage. They went one at a time: Peter, Remus, Ben, and Sirius still holding onto the Sorting Hat. Before young master Gryffindor reached the passage the rock in front of him lifted up into the air and split into tiny shards that cascaded down from the skies. The fighting stopped for a moment. The Sorting Hat realized with horror that not only could they see young master Gryffindor, but they could see all of them in the passageway as well.

Lord Nolan lay on the ground, a trickle of blood escaping from his head, but he was still breathing. The other three lords were either holding their hands up in the sky, on the ground, or in front of them. Randolph and Voldemort still had their wands raised at each other, but both of them were now staring at the five trespassers.

"Who are these boys?" questioned one of the lords.

"Yes, who are they indeed?" asked Voldemort. His eyes narrowed, and he shot a spell at Remus. The boy put up a shield charm, but it didn't seem to do any good. He fell to the ground screaming and twisting in pain. "You must be the Lupin boy I've heard so much about. Can't honestly believe the old man let a werewolf into the school. I suppose that those are your 'friends' Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew." Peter yelped at hearing Voldemort say his name, but Sirius' face only grew dark with anger.

"Leave him alone," he howled at Voldemort. Sirius drew his own wand and threw his own curse. Voldemort released the Cruciatus curse on Remus to block Sirius' spell.

"Do you really think you can defeat me?" laughed Voldemort in a piercing shriek. A purple spell flew from the end of his wand hitting Sirius in the chest. With a small moan the boy fell over. Peter screamed and ran away down the path. The Sorting Hat cried out as the man who was once Tom Riddle aimed at young master Gryffindor. Randolph began a new assault, but Voldemort just smiled only as a true snake can smile. "That seems to have touched a nerve. That one looks quite a lot like you. I suppose he is your brother." Voldemort threw a spell at 'Ric that Randolph blocked with a flick of his wand.

That one flick, though, was just enough of an opening for Voldemort. The Sorting Hat had never seen the slicing movement before, but whatever the spell was it sliced right through Randolph. Blood began to pour from the deep cuts all over his upper body and the man sank to his knees before hitting the ground.

"RANDOLPH!" bellowed young master Gryffindor.

Ben stood wide-eyed shaking all over beside the two Marauders lying on the ground. The other lords looked genuinely shocked and horrified, but as the Dark Lord took aim at 'Ric once again they took up the battle where the elder of Gryffindor's descendents left off. The Sorting Hat did not know what to do. There was so much blood coming out of those wounds.

"That spell was created for me by a seventh year," cackled Voldemort. "See the power of young wizards today? Why resist it? We are the strongest."

"But you're old!" cried out Lord Wenceslas. He disappeared in a stream of water to avoid a well aimed curse from the angered Dark Lord, but reappeared right behind him. Lord Nolan seemed to be stirring as he felt something wet and sticky touching his one hand.

Voldemort then blew a spout of fire from his wand and as he blew upon it a giant snake formed in front of him. The three lords backed up from the flaming beast.. The Sorting Hat wanted to climb into the nearest crevice and hide maybe for the rest of his life at this point (which would be forever unless that snake got any closer or it someone dropped a lit cigarette on him or if Fawkes came for a visit on burning day), but fate would not have this, for it was then that young master Gryffindor picked him up.

"What are you doing?" he screamed. Eric just reached into his brim and pulled out an object so very familiar to the Sorting Hat: a ruby encrusted sword. It was his late Master Gryffindor's sword! He was so amazed that he almost didn't realize that 'Ric had placed him upon his head and was now charging at the fiery beast. "NOW THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT A GOOD IDEA!" The snake stuck out it's fiery tongue and just before the Sorting Hat was sure he was a goner, young master Gryffindor sliced it off. The flaming beast shrieked and reeled back. He couldn't hear what young master Gryffindor said above the flaming beast's cries, but next thing he knew 'Ric shot a rod of lightning from the sword that struck the Dark Lord.

The snake crumbled into smoke and ash as Voldemort stood completely still. After only a moment his face formed one of the fiercest, most ugly snarls he had ever seen. The Dark Lord raised his wand and bellowed, "AVADA KED-"

But his unfinished spell launched skyward as one of his feet sunk below the ground. A hole opened up behind Voldemort and Ben stepped back up above ground. The Sorting Hat looked back to where he was sure the boy was only moments before, but sure enough he was not there anymore. Voldemort shot a spell at Ben but a wall formed between the two of them, and the spell only left a little dent. After several vain attempts the Dark Lord apparated out of his foot holding onto a ledge higher above the stone arena.

He aimed at Ben this time, but it was then that the earth began to shake terribly. Voldemort clung to the rock behind him as the arena around them began changing shape. Before the Sorting Hat knew it Ben was beside himself and young master Gryffindor. A wall stood protecting all three of them from falling rock. He could hear the villagers in Hogsmaede screaming below at the unexpected shaking. The Sorting Hat couldn't recall the area ever having experienced an earthquake.

"It's Lysander!" called out Lord Sebastian. The Dark Lord's eyes widened and suddenly Voldemort had apparated away. He did not reappear again.

The shaking stopped, and as soon as it did Eric ran over to where his brother lay. Lord Nolan had dragged himself over there at some point in the fight and had flipped the man over.

"Randolph!" shouted young master Gryffindor. The young man was very pale, not as pale as the Dark Lord, but it did not look good. The Sorting Hat had seen this kind of pale before. Randolph managed to crack open his eyes and he smiled up at his brother.

"You actually put that dumb hat on," he said.

"I take great offense to that!" retorted the Sorting Hat. "Do you-"

He stopped. The Sorting Hat knew this was not the time and place for one of his rants.

"W-what is this spell?" asked young master Gryffindor. "Randolph, we have get you to a hospital. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey-"

"I'll be fine," replied Randolph although blood continued to seep from his wounds and he could hardly stand up. His breath was rasping loudly in his chest between words.

"You're lying," said Eric.

"What makes you say that?" inquired Randolph.

"Your left eye always twitches when you lie," choked Eric. There were tears now plainly falling down his face. The Sorting Hat bowed the tip of his head. He could hear Ben sniffling a bit behind him. Lord Nolan bowed his head and stopped trying to stop up the ever flowing wounds. The other lords bowed their heads for a moment before going back to helping Remus up and looking over the unconscious Sirius. Remus had just come to and he gasped as he saw the scene that lay before his eyes.

"Eric," breathed Randolph, "you've got to promise me one thing."

"What?" young master Gryffindor questioned.

"You can never tell Auror Potter your name."

**Cliffhanger! Okay, so this chapter is much longer than I thought, so I'm going to split it into two parts. Hopefully I'll update soon instead of just reading other stories. xD**


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